


Soul

by RedTeamShark



Series: Soul Series [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you turn 18, the name of your soul mate is branded somewhere on your body. Most people set out to find the one they’re destined to be with. But Michael Jones and Gavin Free aren’t like most people; one of them is fighting tooth and nail against fate and the other couldn’t care less about the whole concept of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Branded

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to http://bunceglackbooshglaowbip.tumblr.com/

He’s spent the majority of July in a foul mood. It isn’t exactly atypical behavior, but this is rather extreme.

On the morning of July 24th, his 18th birthday, Michael stares into the bathroom mirror, naked in preparation for his shower. He glares down at his hip, where a name is written in scrawled black print.

_Gavin David Free_

It’s not that he’s apparently soul mates with a dude that bothers him (he’s been openly bisexual since the ninth grade and anyone that has a problem with that can just fuck right off). What makes him see red is that it’s not the name of the one person he could actually see himself spending the rest of his life with. The name _Lindsay Elise Tuggey_ isn’t scrawled across his skin for eternity.

Giving up on his self-loathing, Michael steps into the shower. It’s when he’s under the warm spray that another, more terrible thought occurs to him.

How is he supposed to tell Lindsay that they’re not soul mates?

–

It’s May 22nd but the clock is ticking down.

Gavin laughs with his friends, stumbling home through the streets, more than a little drunk. His actual birthday is on Sunday, but the owner of the pub was willing to let it slide so that he and his friends (most of whom are old enough anyways) can have a night out together. It helps that they go there regularly to watch football and have never been a problem.

Now he makes his way up to his front door, waving goodbye to his friends and letting himself in. He tries to be quiet, not wanting to disturb his sleeping family, kicking off shoes and going for his bedroom.

He’s fast asleep when the day flips over to May 23rd, unaware of the slow imprint of a name on the back of his hand.

_Michael Vincent Jones_


	2. Chapter 1: Gavin Free

Love is such a load of crap.

Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but it’s true. The whole idea that your soul mate is pre-destined, give me a break. What’s wrong with just enjoying life without the hassle of a relationship? Having to take care of someone, remember dates that are important to them and don’t mean bollocks to you, and the whole thing with weddings and whatnot… It’s really crap, is all I’m saying.

I’ve tried to explain this viewpoint to my friends, but of course they don’t get it. Most of them have spent the past seven years or so looking for their “soul mates,” trying to connect a face and personality to the name that showed up on their body when they turned eighteen. The fact that I’ve got no interest in finding my “soul mate” somehow makes me the strange one.

People are weird.

Still, at least they still hang out with me. They’ve gotten used to the fact that I’m always wearing a glove on my right hand to hide the name there (and what a stupid place for a name to show up, it’s so inconvenient). They’ve gotten used to the fact that I can’t ask anyone out anymore unless I’m very drunk and they’re very drunk, and even then it’s rarely more than a short-term screw. I used to try dating casually, but the look of disappointment that I’d get when I gave my name, when they realized I wasn’t the one they were fated to be with… it started to hurt a little too much to keep at it. At least with one night stands there’s no expectation. Some of them don’t even ask my name. I never ask for theirs, either.

Not like it matters. I only sleep with women, and the name on my hand is definitely masculine. I think I’ve even seen him before. Curiosity and alcohol have gotten the better of me on more than one occasion, and I recall waking up one morning with a pounding headache and a social media site open to the profile of a Michael Jones.

He wasn’t my type. Also, he had his arms around a girl in almost every picture.

But either way, I’m not bitter. What’s there to be bitter about, really? Love is a load of crap and I’ve thought that even before this name showed up on my skin, even before my friends started giving me weird looks for shrugging off the idea of finding the face to match the name. I’ve got a decent life at 25, a job I enjoy, one that gives me a good balance of income and free time. I’ve got friends and family and a cat named Lloyd.

I’ve also got an opportunity that I never thought I’d have.

It’s pure luck that I have my job, a chance meeting with one of England’s first civilian slow motion camera technicians. It used to be all film and a load of crap at that. My boss is one of the first people outside the military to have a digital high speed camera. That he took me in as an apprentice is more than a little amazing. That he lets me borrow the camera on off times and film things on my own is even better.

I film things with my best friend Dan, mostly in my shed or in his grandparent’s garden. We’ve got this whole thing on the internet, a series of us acting like idiots and filming it in slow motion. It’s pretty cool. Call ourselves The Slow Mo Guys. We’ve even been featured on television, something my mom still brags about.

It’s through my hobby, rather than my job, that I’m going to America. I like video games; I play a lot of video games. I’m crap at them, but I meet and chat with a lot of people in multi-player matches. Some of them I even consider to be friends, sort of. And one of them happens to own a small, independent production company. A small, independent production company that happens to have acquired a high speed camera. Coincidentally, the same type of high speed camera that I typically work with.

Okay, so it’s not all coincidence. After finding out that Burnie Burns was the founder of an independent production company with an interest in high speed cinematography, I may have started talking to him about it. And maybe I put it in his head that if he bought a Phantom Flex I’d be willing to help him out with it. I mean, I already had the experience with it, and my boss is always encouraging me to find new opportunities. Either way, it’s worked out pretty well for me and now I’m just a few weeks away from a trip to Austin, Texas that could last anywhere from six days to six months. My paperwork to travel to and work in America just came through.

It’s pretty top. My heart starts pounding every time I think of my impending trip.

–

My layover is in Atlanta, Georgia, a nine and a half hour flight away from home. Thank god my parents got me that extra life laptop battery for Christmas last year. I can’t imagine nine and a half hours without something to do (sleeping is out of the question, I’ve got way too much nervous energy running through me for that). It’s too bad wireless access on a plane costs an arm and a leg. I doubt that’s something I could bill to the expense account.

The plane touches down a few minutes early of its scheduled landing time. The trip through customs is thankfully an easy one. Coming into America is a lot more strenuous than traveling in Europe, but my paperwork is in order and I’m far from a suspicious person. Soon enough I’m free in the airport to find my gate and a meal. I’ve also got to find an electrical outlet so I can charge my laptop during the rest of my layover. Two hours plugged in should be enough to get me to Austin.

Finding a decently priced place to eat in an airport is an amazingly difficult process, but I manage, thanking god again for the expense card I was sent that’s full of American currency. No hassle of airport exchange rates, which are universally crap. And as my luck has it, there’s even a table with an electrical outlet free so I can sit down, eat, and charge my laptop all at the same time. It’s even near my gate!

I place a Skype call to my parents after I eat, letting them know that I’m in America and everything is alright, my next flight takes off in an hour and yes, I’ll get in touch with Burnie and make sure he’s picking me up at the airport. They’re worried, obviously, their son running off to another country on the checkbook of some guy he’s never actually met in person. I can’t really blame them, but still, I’m an adult and this is my choice.

I sign off Skype and pack my things when they announce pre-boarding for the flight, slinging my bag over my shoulder and going to sit closer to the gate. From the look of things the flight’s relatively full, a crowd of people lining up, waiting to be called. It’s more laziness than experienced traveler that keeps me in my seat until the lines thin, not wanting to deal with the hassle of standing amid a crowd of people. I’m one of the last ones on the plane, but that’s fine—my only carry-on is my laptop bag, which fits under the seat in front of me.

Just as I’m approaching my seat, someone in one of the seats along the way stands, stepping out into the aisle directly in front of me. Unable to stop my forward motion, I crash into him, hand brushing along his hip as I stumble and almost fall into the lap of a bored-looking teenager. I catch my balance with a hand on the seatback, turning a look of confusion on the guy. He doesn’t seem aware of me, his concentration on putting something in the overhead bin. There are tattoos on his exposed arms, characters I recognize from a video game. Huh. There’s something familiar about that ink.

He sits down again without even acknowledging that he bumped into me, turning to answer the girl beside him when she speaks. I shake it off, making my way to my seat and settling in. Two and a half hours and I’ll be in Austin, and then it won’t matter.

Leaning back in the seat and closing my eyes as the plane prepares for takeoff, I focus on my upcoming job. Maybe they’ll hire me full time and I’ll be able to move to America. Getting a visa shouldn’t be too difficult.


	3. Chapter 2: Michael Jones

I love Lindsay Tuggey.

I don’t care what the stupid name on my hip says; she’s the one that I love. I’ve loved her since the moment I met her, first as a friend and then as a girlfriend. She is literally the only person I could ever see myself being with long-term. We’ve already been together for almost eight years.

Nothing as stupid as a name on my skin is going to change that.

We’ve stayed together despite the problems that it might cause, despite the fact that the name on the small of her back isn’t _Michael Vincent Jones_. Who gives a shit anyways, about some stupid shit like that? We know what we want, and we’re living it. We’re happy.

Fuck everyone who says we shouldn’t be, too.

And thank Christ that the brands we have don’t show up easily. People who know us give us weird looks sometimes when we hold hands or she sits in my lap. Don’t need total strangers giving us shit for not buying their idea of fate. Those kinds of people can just fuck right off.

I’m already a fairly assertive person, and I’m not afraid to get loud or violent. People who tell me I shouldn’t be with Lindsay, no matter how happy she makes me, because of some stupid branding on my skin are likely to get a punch in the face.

But, we try not to dwell on that part of it. We try not to think about the names on our skin, especially not when we’re alone together. We try not to think of the disapproving looks our parents give us for staying in a relationship despite it being against what we’re fated to do.

I also try not to think about the way her gaze wanders off when we’re out together, the way her hand hesitates to take mine while we’re walking. I’ve been trying for months to tell myself that her kisses are just the same as they’ve always been, that there’s nothing reluctant about them.

It’s not always any easy thing to convince myself of.

That’s why we’re going to Austin. We’ve been planning this trip out for a few months now, a small vacation to take our minds off everything that’s been happening. We’ll be together in a city where no one knows us, where no one knows that the names branded onto us aren’t each other’s. It’s going to be perfect. It has to be perfect.

Because I’m going to ask Lindsay Tuggey to marry me when we’re there.

Fuck what people say about marriages between people who aren’t soul mates not working. We’ve been together for years since we found out and we’ve been just fine. We belong together no matter what the names on our skin want us to believe. How can you be soul mates with a person you’ve never met before, anyways?

I don’t think Lindsay’s ever come across her supposed soul mate before (though I think she’s gone looking), but she did find mine. Mostly through luck, partly through her efforts of watching every video with a cat in it on youtube, she found the person she’s almost positive is Gavin David Free. He does slow motion camera work and makes dumb videos about it in his free time. I only watched them because it’s sort of interesting and it’s fun to laugh at people who are being dumb online. Mostly because it’s fun to make fun of people who are being dumb online. And that guy sounds like a real idiot.

It’s not really something to think about, though. If nothing else, the guy lives in England, and when the fuck am I ever going to go there? Hell, knowing that the guy whose name showed up on my hip is there just makes me want to avoid the entire European continent. If I never meet him, he can’t keep ruining my life, right? If I just never meet him, then Lindsay and I can continue to be together.

Thoughts like that are swirling in my head as we rush through the Atlanta airport. Our flight from New Jersey was delayed and instead of the hour we had planned Lindsay and I only have thirty-five minutes to get from our arrival gate to our departure gate. And of course, they’re on opposite fucking ends of the terminal. At least they’re in the same terminal, though.

We make it, breathing heavily and sweating, standing in line with our backpacks and suitcases and trying to catch our breath as they announce boarding. I look over to her, smiling and planting a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. My heart’s still pounding from the run through the airport, my hands are sweaty as they grip the handle of my suitcase. I’ll have to take my jacket off once we get on the plane.

Then our section is called for boarding and we’re surging forward with the crowd, finding out seats and loading our suitcases into the overhead. Lindsay settles in to the window seat, resting her head on my shoulder and linking her hand with mine when I sit down next to the aisle. Nervous energy is still rushing through me, probably an adrenaline holdover from running through the airport. Travel always makes me a little more tense, but this is getting ridiculous.

When the aisle to my right is empty I shrug out of my jacket, standing and turning to put it into the overhead. Someone bumps me, there’s stumbling feet beside me and I just barely glance over my shoulder as a hand brushes my hip, before all my attention is resolutely focused on putting my jacket away.

It’s him; it’s fucking _him_ , Gavin David Free. I recognize his stupid face and his stupid haircut and fuck, even the stupid t-shirt he’s wearing is the same as one he wore in a video. He’s here, standing right next to me while I put my jacket in the overhead and how the hell did that happen, anyways?

I sit down again without looking at him or speaking to him, taking Lindsay’s hand and gripping it tightly. She looks up, concerned, asking me quietly if something is wrong but all I can do is shake my head. How would I even explain it to her? Besides, this can’t be happening. There’s no way I’m on a plane with the man whose name is on my hip. No fucking way.

How dare he show up here, anyways? How dare he be anywhere near me, when I’m on vacation with my girlfriend. My girlfriend that I intend to ask to be my fiancé. This is just completely unreal.

It’s going to be a long flight to Austin.


	4. Chapter 3: Austin

The city of Austin is so unlike any other city he’s been to. Gavin stares out the window of the truck as they drive into the city, almost wholly unaware of what Burnie is saying next to him. Something about meeting some of the others from the company that night at a bar on Sixth Street. Gavin can’t focus on his words for a moment, instead trying to take in the sunset city around him.

They drive through the heart of downtown at dusk, passing by crowded sidewalks from the confines of the car. He’ll be staying with Geoff, a production assistant who has been with the company since the beginning, and Geoff lives on the opposite side of the city from the airport. It’s a long drive, made longer by rushing traffic. Gavin’s glad he didn’t take a cab; having someone to talk with is fairly nice, even if he’s distracted every few minutes by the sights around him.

“I’ll drop you off at Geoff’s so you can drop your stuff off, then he and his wife will bring you out to the bar. I think that most of our upper-level staff is going. A lot of them are excited to meet you.” Burnie informs him now, signaling and turning down a much quieter, residential street. He makes a few more twists and turns along the road, leaving behind the crowded suburban neighborhoods for ones with large, sprawling lawns and large houses. The sun has almost completely set, leaving most of the street illuminated only by porch lights and the occasion streetlamp at an intersection. Flicking on his turn signal, Burnie pulls into a driveway, coasting up to the large, well-lit house. Gavin looks up, biting his lip to try to keep his nerves at bay.

“Thanks for the ride.” He manages to squeak out, picking up his laptop bag. Everything else is in the bed of the truck, two large suitcases worth of clothes, shoes, and things he just couldn’t live without. It’d be really embarrassing if he was only in Austin for a few days, packing about a month worth of stuff, but Gavin had decided to err on the side of optimism.

“Well, I’m not just going to drop you in his driveway, Gav.” Burnie scoffs, shutting the truck off and opening the door. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’d break in half trying to carry even one of those suitcases.”

The front door opens, a feminine voice cheerfully calling them to come in as they unload the two heavy bags from the back of the truck. Burnie turns, waving and calling that they’ll be right there. A second voice responds, shouting for them to hurry up and get inside. Somehow, the friendly banter, rapid-fire insults thrown between Burnie and the man in the doorway (Geoff, he presumes—it sounds like the Geoff that he’s played video games with, anyways) makes Gavin relax, a smile coming to his face as he drags his suitcase inside.

He’s enveloped into a hug immediately by a slim woman with tattoos painted along her bare arms and a septum piercing in her nose. She smiles as she lets him go, immediately mussing up his hair. “Welcome to the Ramsey family, Gavin. Make yourself at home.” The words from Griffon are all it takes to melt away the last of Gavin’s nervousness.

No matter how long he ends up staying, he knows he’ll be welcome here.

–

The condo on Sixth Street is nice, borderline nicer than they can afford, but Michael managed to reserve it at a good price. He and Lindsay exchange a smile as they step inside, dropping their bags by the front door and immediately sprinting across the small kitchenette/living room space, through the double doors that lead to the bedroom. They jump at the same time, flinging themselves onto the king sized bed and bouncing. Lindsay’s laughter rings through the room as Michael makes the springy mattress bounce again, sending her into the air. She twists mid-air, landing on top of him with a giggle, forcing a grunt from him. Their lips meet as they stop bouncing, smiling through the kiss.

“This really was a good idea.” Lindsay whispers against him, lazily tugging the ever-present beanie off his head and threading her fingers into his curly auburn hair. She plants more kisses on his face, light touches of her lips to his skin, while his arms wrap around her waist and he holds on tight.

“I knew it would be…” He mumbles, ghosting his fingertips over the small of her back—a tiny bit of exposed skin, her shirt having ridden up at some point while bouncing on the bed. There’s no difference in the feeling of her skin under his fingertips where the name that’s not his is branded on her and he forces himself to forget that it’s there.

Forces himself to forget about the moment on the plane when a hand brushed his hip.

Supposedly, the place where the name appears is the first place that the two people will make physical contact. For most, it’s somewhere on the hand or the arm. That the name branded itself into Michael’s hip had concerned him for a while, but now he’s had that moment of contact and he understands the context. He doesn’t intend to do anything with it, of course, wouldn’t dream of it. The only thing he intends to do is have a good vacation with Lindsay. A vacation that ends with him dropping to one knee in a nice restaurant and pulling out the ring box he’d secreted into his suitcase that morning.

Now he moves his hand up, linking his fingers with hers and planting a firm kiss on her lips. “Come on.” Michael offers, sitting up and easing Lindsay off his lap. “Let’s go find some dinner and maybe a good bar. There’s bound to be some good places to eat around here.”

“Sounds like a plan. You want to shower first?” Lindsay offers, sliding off the bed and tugging him to his feet. Michael shakes his head, just leading her out the door.

“Nah, I’m starving. Besides, you’ve never had a problem with me being smelly before.” That brings laughter from her as they head down to the lobby to ask about places to eat.

Michael makes sure to keep their fingers locked tightly together.

–

If he’d called the city busy during the evening rush, it was nothing compared to the nightlife.

Gavin had been introduced to more people than he could remember during dinner, shaking hands and sharing greetings with everyone. Now he sits between Griffon and someone he was almost positive was named either Mike or Matt. Mike-or-Matt is one of their directors. Or is he one of the actors? It’s impossible to keep everything straight and Gavin has long since stopped trying.

The whole group of them had been drinking since before they’d started dinner, beginning with wine and mixed drinks, slowly progressing to beers and shots. Gavin feels giddy, all his nervous energy mixing with the alcohol and leaving him more talkative than usual, more curious about other people’s lives.

To his right, Griffon has her hand in the back pocket of Geoff’s jeans. She’s smiling, talking animatedly with him, answering a question that he’d asked without meaning.

“…it showed up on my hand and I was like ‘okay, yeah, I can work with this.’” Griffon explains, her arm flexing slightly as she gives Geoff’s ass a little squeeze. “Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey, that’s the guy I’m meant to be with. I guess the most shocking part was that at eighteen I was pretty much set on being a lesbian. But, well, things change…”

Geoff leans over, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at Gavin. “By which she means, she grabbed my ass at a party. Just full on grabbed onto me, man. Scared the dicks outta me, too. But, like, I had this name, this Griffon E. O’Connell branded on there. Only part of my body I’ve never even thought of getting a tattoo on, too.” He grins widely, sharing a brief kiss with his wife before she continues the story.

“And so he turns to me, drunk off his face, and we looked at each other and… it was like sparks flew. Then I threw up on his shoes.”

“So I helped her to the bathroom and when she was done puking we stood in there talking, introduced ourselves… everything just clicked together.” Geoff finishes for her, smiling and sharing another kiss. Gavin gives them a smile, self-consciously slipping his gloved hand under the table. Maybe they won’t ask about him…

“What about you, Gav? Find your someone special yet?” Griffon questions, immediately dashing his hopes.

Gavin shrugs, trying to wave it off. “Nah. I’m not really looking, though. Not that interested in love and stuff.”

“Well, you’ll find them eventually.” Griffon nods with real confidence, lifting her beer and taking another drink. “What’s their name?”

“Michael Vincent Jones.” He mumbles, staring down at the table. He tries to ignore it when her eyes widen.

“I see.” Is all she says, though, and Gavin is immensely grateful for Griffon. She seems to understand his disinterest, maybe even his discomfort with it. There’s a short pause, before Geoff is leaning over, asking him about how his plane ride was and sharing a story about the two dumbest people he’d ever encountered while flying.

Gavin already loves the Ramsey family.

From dinner they go bar hopping on Sixth Street. Gavin is introduced to more people, but he’s long since given up trying to remember names. He’ll meet everyone again at work on Monday, after all. Currently he’s at a table with a couple of guys that he’s almost positive are writers for the company (and one of them might be named Kerry or Kenny or something like that), sharing drinks and stories. He tells them about the time he and his friends got drunk and tried to break into their school, only to find out that they were at the wrong building and had forced their way into an empty warehouse. There are laughs around and when their drinks are empty, Gavin offers to go pick up the next round.

He’s at the bar, money in hand, waiting for an opening to place his order when a familiar tattoo comes into his field of vision.

Gavin watches, frowning and trying to remember where he recognizes the ink from (it’s not Geoff or Griffon, he knows that much) as the owner of the arm squeezes up to the bar next to him to place an order. And suddenly it hits him, this is the guy from the plane that he almost bumped into, and those tattoos look so familiar not because he’s seen the subject matter before, but because he’s seen _that exact ink_ before. Gavin wracks his alcohol-infused brain trying to remember where, his eyes going wide when it hits him.

He gasps and the guy turns to him. There’s a moment of total silence between them, before the other man’s eyes widen. Without warning he shoves off from the bar, pushing through the crowd of drunk people and disappearing.

That, Gavin realizes, was Michael Vincent Jones. They haven’t exchanged two words yet, but he’s sure of it.

Gavin falls heavily onto the nearest barstool, glad that there’s something there to catch him. Otherwise he’d likely be on the floor.

–

“Lindsay, we have to go.” Michael says urgently, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand and trying to yank her away from their table.

“What? Why? Michael, what’s wrong? Did you get into a fight?” Lindsay lets herself be pulled up, holding up just long enough to drain the beer glass on the table.

“He’s here.” It’s the only explanation Michael has the presence of mind to offer, and it’s not much of one. His eyes are everywhere in the bar at once, trying to keep track of the man he was just standing next to. The man from the plane, the man named Gavin David Free that he’s apparently supposed to be with forever, instead of Lindsay.

He tugs his girlfriend outside, pulling her close and kissing her, desperate to prove to himself that this is the right thing. She kisses back, threading her fingers through his hair and making him melt into the feeling. After a few minutes, he pulls away, holding onto her tightly. “Let’s… let’s go back to the hotel, okay?”

“Okay.” At least he doesn’t need to try to convince her. Michael takes her hand again, walking down the street with confidence even though he’s not quite sure where he’s going.

“Uh, Michael.” Lindsay’s voice interrupts his thoughts, her head jerking backwards. “Our hotel is that way.” He stops in the street, nodding before just letting her lead him back. At least one of them was paying attention.

They lie in the big bed, Michael’s arms secure around Lindsay’s waist. He can hear her breathing, feel the even rise and fall on her chest. He wishes he was as asleep, but there are too many thoughts in his head.

Like wondering what the odds are that the guy ends up in Austin as a final destination, not just a layover. And at the same time that Michael takes his girlfriend on vacation there, too. Plus they’re at the same bar and even with the crowds they end up next to each other.

Does the guy know him? Does Gavin know that he’s Michael Vincent Jones? Does Gavin care? Is he going to have to explain to his so-called ‘soul mate’ that it’s a load of crap and he’s not interested? What if the guy doesn’t take no for an answer? What if he turns into some kind of crazy stalker, or decides that Lindsay’s in the way of the whole ‘soul mates’ business and tries to hurt her?

He looks down at the top of Lindsay’s head, planting a light kiss on her scalp and sighing. He’ll never get to sleep at this rate.

The guy hadn’t said anything in the bar, just stared at him. Maybe he’d luck out, and Gavin David Free wouldn’t be interest in him either.

As if he’d ever be so lucky.

Michael sighs again, carefully sliding his arms from around Lindsay’s waist, scooting himself away from her and rolling out of the large bed. She remains asleep as he leaves the room, entering the condo’s bathroom and shutting the door before turning the light on. He stands in front of the mirror in shorts and a plain t-shirt, bracing his hands on the sink as he leans forward to stare into his own face. Finally pushing off the sink, he steps back and lifts his t-shirt with one hand, tugging his pants down below his right hip.

 _Gavin David Free_.

The name seems to glare out of his skin, to mock him with its very existence. By all rights the name should be _Lindsay Elise Tuggey_ , he loves her and he knows he does and all he wants is to be with her. But no. It’s got to be some British guy who does high speed cinematography and who, for whatever stupid reason, has to be in Austin at the same time Michael is. Who has to be on the same plane and going to the same bars and ordering drinks at the same time.

Fate is such fucking bullshit.

He tucks his arm to his side, holding his t-shirt up and carefully running his right hand over the name on his hip. That brief contact on the plane, that one moment of the back of the guy’s hand brushing against his side through his clothes. A millisecond of touch that seemed to make the entire universe shift on its axis, everything that was blurry before becoming immediately clear. Michael cursed softly, letting his shirt drop back into place to cover the name branded onto his skin. He runs his hands through his hair, shutting off the bathroom light as he leaves to return to bed. His arms worm back around Lindsay’s waist, his lips finding her forehead as he holds on. As he tells himself that this is exactly what he wants in life. That universal clarity is fucking worthless compared to just being who he is and loving who he loves.

It sort of works.


	5. Chapter 4: Say Something

He must have had a sleepness night. I’m by no means a morning person and it’s a very rare occasion when I’m up before my boyfriend without an alarm clock.

I carefully wiggle myself out of his arms, leaning over and kissing his forehead before sliding out of bed. Since I’m actually awake before he is, may as well make some coffee.

Michael doesn’t need to tell me that something’s bothering him. That much is more than obvious. But he’s not telling me what it is, that’s the worrying part. He knows he can be completely honest with me. He knows that I love him. That I won’t leave him. We proved that when we turned eighteen and didn’t find each other’s names. Names on skin don’t matter, this trip to Austin was supposed to solidify that. I love him and I will no matter what.

So why the restless night? Why the sudden escape from the bar? Why was he so tense and quiet on the plane?

Why isn’t he talking to me about any of this?

I sigh, pouring myself a second cup of coffee and sitting down on the condo’s couch, turning on the morning news. Under the low sound of the television I can hear Michael stirring in the other room. When he comes stumbling out of the bedroom for the coffee pot I only smile. This is familiar, this is routine. He pours himself coffee almost without opening his eyes, coming to sit next to me. I lean in for a kiss after he takes his first sip, settling back and giving him a smile.

“Morning.”

“Muhn.”

We settle into comfortable silence, watching the morning news show even though none of the people and places they’re talking about mean much to us. As he drinks his coffee Michael’s hand settles on my thigh and I place my hand over his. When he comes back with a second cup of coffee I lean over, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Michael.”

“Mmm?” He turns slightly, placing his lips to my forehead before sitting up and taking another sip of coffee.

“Talk to me, babe. What’s wrong?” My heart speeds up when his right hand drifts from my thigh to his own hip. I bite my tongue, however, wanting him to talk to me. There’s no reason to panic, not yet. There can’t be. The guy on his hip is in England, we’re in Austin, Texas!

“He’s here.” Michael whispers. I can see him tracing his thumb over his shirt, right where the name is written. “He’s in Austin. I don’t know how or why but… he’s here.” He turns to me then, sighing and dropping his eyes. “He was on the plane with us, from Atlanta. Bumped into me. Touched my hip. Then last night in the bar, he was there at the bar when I went to get us another round and he recognized me.” He turns to me then, kissing me in a way that’s more desperate than passionate.

“Lindsay, I love you. I don’t care what the name on my hip says, I love _you_ and you’re the one I want to spend my life with. I… oh, shit, this wasn’t how I planned on doing this.” I can only watch, heart pounding in my chest, as Michael stands and goes back to the bedroom. My hands are gripping the fabric of the sofa, a million thoughts rushing through my head.

He comes back holding something and drops to one knee in front of me. Impossibly, my heart rate picks up even more. “Lindsay… Lindsay Tuggey, I love you. I…” Michael fumbles, pulling out the small box and opening up, offering me the ring inside. “Fuck fate, okay? I love _you_ and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you…?”

I’ve dreamt of this moment, I guess every little girl has. The man you love on one knee in front of you, offering you the promise of forever. The tears of joy running down your cheeks and the way your voice shakes when you say yes. It’s just like all the movies, even if we’re in our pajamas and haven’t showered yet. Except I’m not crying, I’m not saying yes. My heart is pounding for a reason completely unrelated to Michael’s proposal.

“Michael…” I slide off the couch, dropping to my knees in front of him and kissing him lightly. “Are you proposing to me because you love me, or are you doing it to prove something to yourself?” Because that’s the downside of knowing someone so well they’re like another part of you. You know when their motivations aren’t what they want to say they are. You know when they’re hesitating over something they normally wouldn’t. You know when they’ve had a restless night.

“I love you!” Michael’s voice raises, panic starting to come to his eyes. “I thought that… that you and I, we were going to say fuck the soul mates thing and be together because we make each other happy.”

“And we can.” Now I smile, kissing him again and putting my hands over his. “I love you, Michael Jones, and I’ll marry you—“

“Oh thank god.” He interrupts, making me laugh. I school my face into seriousness again.

“If you agree to meet up with Gavin Free at least once.”

Now his face drops into a look of surprise that, in any other circumstances, would be comical. “ _What_?”

“I’m not saying go on a date with him. I’m saying meet up. Talk. Think about it, Michael. Something, somewhere, somehow decided that you and him are meant to be together instead of you and me. Can you really live the rest of your life knowing you had the chance to find out why and not taking it?”

“Yes!” He yells immediately. I only look into his eyes, waiting. After a few seconds, his gaze drops. “I meet him and… and what if. What if this whole thing isn’t just bullshit and something… happens?”

Kissing him for the third time in as many minutes, I shrug. “Then I’ll still love you. I’ll _always_ love you, Michael. Nothing can take away everything that we have together… it just might change.” Another shrug from me. “Meet him, Michael. You might never have another chance.”

“Have you…” He swallows, slowly lowering his hands and setting the ring box on the carpet before his gaze returns to me. “Have you met yours?”

It’s my turn to be surprised but it’s also my turn to be honest. I nod slowly, closing my eyes. “Once. He e-mailed me and asked if I wanted to meet for coffee at a book store. I did. We talked. I told him about you. Then we went our separate ways and…” I’m the one who can’t meet his gaze now, tilting my head down and resting it on his chest. “And there was a car accident that maybe wasn’t an accident on the way home.”

“Is he…?” Michael’s arms are around me, his hands rubbing my back.

“In the hospital. Coma. It’s been five years… I… every now and then I call and ask the nurses about him. Just… just because of the what-if.” I’m holding onto Michael’s shirt like a lifeline, shaking in his embrace. “Not everyone can just say fuck fate. So, please, Michael… meet him. Make sure he’s not going to… to have a maybe-not-an-accident when he finds out you don’t want to be with him.”

Above me, Michael sighs before nodding. “Fine. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll meet up with him, talk to him. And then,” he tilts my chin up, kissing me slowly, “then I’ll take you out to a nice dinner and propose properly. Not wearing pajamas with morning breath.”

I smile, letting him help me to my feet and stretching out. “As long as it’s you asking to be with me forever with a clear heart, it’s always going to be proper and perfect, Michael.” We laugh together at how lame we are before I go to get some clean clothes and take a shower.


	6. Chapter 5: Contact

All things considered, there’s really only one place for Michael to start looking. He pulls his laptop from the bag, booting it up and pulling up The Slow Mo Guys on youtube. There’s an e-mail address there and after a few moments of sighing and tapping his hands on his thigh in annoyance, the auburn-haired man sends an e-mail to the address, choosing his words carefully.

It bounces back into his inbox with a “sorry the inbox you’re attempting to reach is full” message. He nearly throws the laptop across the room.

–

Gavin shakes hands around the room, re-introducing himself to everyone and trying his best to remember their names. He goes with Gus, the company’s technical specialist, to take a look at the camera set up they’re currently working with.

“Not bad…” Gavin smiles, crouching down next to one of the cameras. “Certainly better than the set-up I started with. Bloody webcam duct taped to my laptop.” He stands again, looking around. “So, where’s the Phantom?”

Gus leads him over to where they have the camera mounted, Gavin settling behind it and beginning to check the equipment. “The key with this camera is that it records… basically backwards in time. You hit the record button _after_ you’re done and it saves the last four seconds of footage onto the drive. Working at maximum this thing will eat hard drives, by the way. I’ve got about ten terabytes just for Slow Mo Guys, and we use even more than that at work.” He’s mostly talking to himself, going over the same spiel that his boss had given him when he’d first started learning the camerawork. Smiling a little, he sits back. “The good news is that you’ve got an entire crew. So no running away from the cool thing that’s happening to tell the camera to record.

“The Phantom doesn’t record sound, so your audio engineers are going to have to slow down the audio track to match it, and possibly use stock sound effects depending on what you’re doing. Some things just don’t sound right when you slow down the natural, so you have to artificial it. You have experience with that?” He’s fully in his element, more focused than most people would think possible. He’s also smiling widely, clearly enjoying the work.

His first day on the job is going to be a good one.

–

“Try his Facebook, it’s linked right there.” Lindsay offers, leaning over his shoulder and pointing to the screen.

Michael sighs, clicking the link and scrolling through the profile. “Last time he updated Facebook was almost a week ago and look, he hasn’t logged in for like three days. I doubt he’s gonna fucking check it.”

“Hey, just trying to help. Don’t bite my head off.” She kisses his cheek and he turns, catching her lips briefly.

“I run into this guy almost literally on a plane and then see him at a bar that night, but as soon as I _want_ to contact him it’s fucking impossible.” Michael pushes the laptop away, standing and running his hands through his hair. “Let’s go get some lunch, I’ll try his twitter or something afterwards.”

–

When lunchtime rolls around, most everyone goes out. Burnie invites Gavin to come along with him and a few others to a bar-be-que place, but the Brit passes on the opportunity. He’s in the middle of something that looks extremely complicated, fingers moving over a mouse and keyboard, occasionally darting to the wires that trail from the set-up to the high speed camera. He’ll eat later, after he’s done checking the settings on the camera. It’s still in factory mode, no one quite wanting to use it before getting the full tutorial that he has to offer.

Someone sits down beside him, almost wholly unnoticed. Gavin is deep in the settings menu, trying to remember where the option to keep the camera in high quality mode was.

“So, do you need me to google something for you?” A voice next to him asks. Gavin starts, turning and blinking a few times. The guy next to him grins, shrugging. “Just a suggestion, man.”

He’s young, with dark hair and dark eyes, a pair of headphones perched around his neck, soft music coming from them. The guy is leaned back in his chair, a laptop on his lap and a pudding cup in his hand, spoon sticking out of it.

“Uh, no… No, I got it.” Gavin shrugs, turning back to the screen and clicking back a few times. He’s sure it’s somewhere in the video settings menu, but that has about fifty sub-menus and he can’t quite remember which one houses the quality settings.

“You really know how to use that thing, huh?” The guy questions, gesturing towards the camera with his spoon. “I mean, duh, I guess of course you do, but—“ he interrupts himself, taking a swallow of pudding “—it’s just surprising, you know? You don’t look like a film tech. Then again, I guess I don’t look like an editor.”

“Editor, huh?” Gavin questions, only half paying attention to the conversation. He clicks another menu open, groaning when half the screen fills with sub-menus. “Audio or video?”

“Both. I also do filming… Directing, but that’s independent of the company. I’m sort of the everything guy. Name’s JJ.” He offers his hand, Gavin turning and shaking with him briefly.

“Gavin Free.”

“Yeah, I figured. Burnie hasn’t shut up about you. Drives Gus crazy, he’s still halfway convinced you’re a fraud. Whatever, though, Gus doesn’t like anyone. Hey, what’s with the glove?” JJ talks at a mile a minute, but Gavin doesn’t particularly mind. It’s not distracting, holding a conversation with the guy.

“Keeps people from asking ques— _bollocks_!” It’s Gavin’s turn to interrupt himself as he closes the video settings menu. “That was a waste of time. It’s in the camera settings, not the video settings, duh!”

“Right. So, the glove?”

“Keeps people from asking questions about my soul mate and stuff.” He surprises himself with how easily the words come out, fingers pausing on the keys and his eyes on the back of his right hand. He can almost see the name there, as if he weren’t wearing the glove at all. Gavin shakes it off, getting back to work.

“Huh. Most people are happy to show theirs off. I know I would if it were somewhere that visible.” JJ tosses his empty pudding cup towards the trash can, sighing and getting to his feet when it lands on the floor.

Gavin sets up the high quality recording feature, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. He’s not really interested in talking about the whole soul mates thing, but this guy is nice enough and he would like to make friends at work. “So, where’s yours?”

“On my chest. My girlfriend’s got my name on her shoulder. We were both on the same bus and it braked suddenly. She fell against me. Dropped all her stuff so I helped her pick it up and just… we had that connection, you know? Talked for almost two hours before we got around to introducing ourselves and even then it was that feeling like… like we already knew each other.” He grins, taking a seat again. “You’ve met yours?”

“I… sort of.” Gavin sighs, turning back to the computer. “I should probably finish this and get some lunch.”

“Alright.” JJ doesn’t press any more questions about the soul mates thing and Gavin is glad. He likes this jack-of-all-trades editor, doesn’t want to alienate him.

Their conversation turns to music during the rest of lunch hour and by the time the camera is set up Gavin has an entire list of new bands that he ‘absolutely must listen to’ because they will (according to JJ) ‘completely alter the state of music’ for him.

–

Michael and Lindsay walk along the busy streets until they find a place for lunch that looks good to both of them. He’s still irritated at the lack of ways to actually get in touch with Gavin now that he wants to, but there’s nothing to be done about it. He’ll have to settle for waiting to bump into the guy, probably.

“You try tweeting at him?” Lindsay questions around a slice of pizza, her eyes darting to his phone on the table.

“Thought about it, but what if he doesn’t read his mentions or whatever? The guy’s got like a hundred thousand followers, he probably gets lots of alerts.” Michael sighs, taking another drink from his soda. “Can we not talk about Gavin during lunch, though? Please? I just wanna spend time with you, Lindsay.”

“Alright, fine.” She smiles, foot brushing his under the table. “So, what should we do tonight?”

“Tonight? I dunno. It’s a Monday night in a city we’ve never been to before. We didn’t exactly fucking plan this trip.” He shrugs, taking another bite of pizza. “We could take a walk around the city, maybe. Check the hotel lobby for flyers about stuff that looks interesting.”

“Sounds good to me.” Silence falls between them, comfortable and warm. Michael is almost done with his pizza when Lindsay speaks up again. “You know, if we’re out, we’ll probably see him again.”

“Lindsay.” Michael groans, staring her down across the table.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Shut the fuck up about him.”

“Fine, fine. But I’m just saying—“

“No, seriously, stop it. I’ll tweet him when we get back to the condo. He at least updated his twitter yesterday.”

That gets a smile from Lindsay and she leans over, kissing him on the forehead. “Sounds good. Hey, you wanna go get smoothies?”

The kiss and tone of her voice at the suggestion of smoothies are enough to make Michael smile, his hand finding hers and squeezing lightly. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

They walk hand in hand to a smoothie shop down crowded streets, talking and laughing. Just outside the door, Michael pauses, planting a kiss on Lindsay’s lips. “Love you, Lindsay.” He whispers, before tugging her inside.

Neither is aware that the second floor of the building the smoothie shop is in houses financial offices for a production company. They have no reason to know that and under normal circumstances have no reason to care. Except that above them are the financial offices for the production company that has hired Gavin Free as a consultant.

It’s a very small world sometimes.

–

After lunch Gavin gives a short course in slow motion to Chris and Kara, two of the primary camera operators. Others will be working with the cameras, he’s told (it seems almost everyone at the company is multi-talented—Burnie has chosen to hire a small number of very talented people rather than a large number of somewhat talented people), but Chris and Kara are the two most likely to be using them at first.

Gavin doesn’t need to ask twice for volunteers to be on camera, most of the people working there apparently eager to try out the new technology. He ends up attempting to do backflips with Miles, one of the writers he was drinking with the previous night. They regularly crash to the floor, laughing and holding their various aches and pains.

Kara is quick to master the camera, almost intuitively knowing when to hit the record button to get the perfect shot. They hook the laptop into the projector, showing the mid-air collision of Gavin and Miles at 2500 frames per second, played back at the standard 25 frames per second, drawing a three second action into a five minute clip.

“That’s incredible.” Someone whispers, and Gavin beams.

“Add in the audio from the other cameras, slow it down a hundred fold, and you have slow motion.” He announces proudly just as he and Miles crash into each other and bounce backwards on the screen. “It’s pretty top.”

The rest of the afternoon is mostly spent messing around, the hard drives of footage being reused rather than saved. After work he and Geoff, bruised and sweaty but smiling, meet up with Griffon and the Ramsey’s daughter at a local restaurant for dinner and drinks. They laugh and talk excitedly about the work of the day, listening eagerly as Griffon tells them about some new pieces she’s making for her art gallery and the youngest member of the family fills them in on her day at school.

He’s only been there for twenty-four hours, but already Gavin never wants to leave.

–

He meant to send a polite tweet, really. To inform Gavin that he thought they should meet for coffee at a particular Starbucks. As he reads the guy’s twitter feed, though, Michael finds himself getting more and more agitated with him.

“Look at this shit!” He declares, gesturing to the screen of his laptop. “This motherfucker updates sixteen times a day about how fucking ‘top’ whatever he’s doing is! And then!” He scrolls up furiously, pointing accusingly at the screen and adapting a high-pitched, mockingly accented voice. “’Just landed in Atlanta! So excited to get to Austin! Tippy-toppers!’ Fucking _tippy-toppers_! How am I supposed to be goddamned soul mates with a guy who pisses me off this much?!”

“Michael, just send the message.” Lindsay sighs, leaning over and kissing his temple. “Then you can stop worrying about it.”

“I’m not worrying.” He mutters, petulantly crossing his arms for a moment. With a sigh, his fingers glide over the keyboard, typing out a short message to Gavin Free.

He closes down the laptop and goes out to dinner with Lindsay, purposely not checking twitter on his phone while they eat dinner and talk about some of their entertainment options—the hotel lobby had had plenty of suggestions, now choosing one became the hard part. Michael finally checks his twitter when they’re walking back to the condo, almost snapping his phone in half.

“Not only did he not fucking answer me, he hasn’t posted anything for like a day and a half!” He shouts, uncaring of the people in the street who turn to stare at him. “What the fuck!”

“Jeez, babe, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were worried.” Lindsay plucks the phone from his shaking hands, dropping it into her purse and smiling a little. “Come on, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll answer you.”

Michael stuffs his hands into his pockets, grumbling for the rest of the walk back.

–

Finally back from dinner and done with an impromptu _Halo 4_ game with Geoff, Gavin makes his way to the spare bedroom that has been designated as his for the duration of his stay. He’s tired, but he knows he should at least get online for a few minutes, let his friends and family back home know that things are going well for him so far in Austin. If he doesn’t update them soon they’ll start to think he really was kidnapped.

He boots up his laptop, signing in to Skype first and sighing to see that none of his contacts in England are online. Then again, it is almost six in the morning over there… He opens his internet browser, checking facebook next and posting a quick status update that he’s working in Austin and having a great time—top, even.

Next up is twitter, Gavin scrolling aimlessly through his feed, smiling a little at updates from his friends on there. He taps the shortcut to make a new tweet, posting that he’s in Austin and really enjoying his work with the production company, tagging the company twitter account in it.

He’s about to close out of twitter and go to bed when he gets a notice of a new tweet mentioning him. Shrugging, Gavin clicks it, his eyebrows immediately furrowing.

 **Michael Jones**  
@GavinFree listen up shitbag I’m sick of waiting for you. We’re meeting for coffee at the Starbucks on the corner of E 6th and S Congress

He sits there, frowning at the laptop and wondering just what this guy is on about. Does he have the wrong person? That’s possible, Gavin supposes, but somehow it seems unlikely. He’s about to go check the guy’s profile to see if it’s the Michael Jones that he thinks it is, when another notification of a mention comes in.

 **Michael Jones**  
@GavinFree ps I’m not a stalker, who would want to stalk your dumb ass? Apparently we’re fucking soulmates or bullshit like that.

That seems to settle it. He checks the profile anyways, spotting pictures of familiar tattoos and remembering, hazily, seeing similar pictures on a facebook profile that he’d drunkenly opened up.

He frowns, though, tapping his fingers on the keys in thought before sending a message back.

–

Michael nearly throws the computer threw the window when an answer finally comes in. The guy had tweeted fifteen minutes before, apparently oblivious of Michael’s earlier message, and he’d just been lucky enough to catch it. Now he’s sitting here waiting for an answer, hoping that his second message got the guy’s attention.

 **Gavin Free**  
@MLP_Michael Why should I meet up with you? I don’t even know if you’re telling the truth. Not to mention you didn’t give a time.

Before he can even get his fingers on the keys, a second message pops up.

 **Gavin Free**  
@MLP_Michael Also, not that interested to be honest. I don’t fancy gingers.

For the second time that day, Michael nearly breaks an electronic device.

He sends a message back quickly, before turning to Lindsay, fuming. “This guy is a piece of shit!”

“You’ll get along well, then. What’d you tell him?”

He nearly snarls, shoving the laptop at her. “I told him that he’s a piece of trash and if he doesn’t meet me at Starbucks at noon I’m going to hunt him down.”

She looks over the message, frowning slightly. “You wrote ‘Starbucks. Noon. Bitch.’ Eloquent, Michael. You’re making a great first impression.” Handing the laptop back, she leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Well he’s a piece of shit! ‘I don’t fancy gingers’ what the fuck! He should be fucking calling me ‘top’ or whatever stupid thing he says everything is!”

“Michael, are you mad that your soul mate—a concept you firmly don’t believe in, might I add—might not be interested in you?” There’s teasing in her voice, her hand settling over his and squeezing lightly.

“Shut the fuck up, Lindsay.” It’s all he can manage before another message comes in.

 **Gavin Free**  
@MLP_Michael You’re pushy, aren’t you? I’ll try to be there, then. And you’re the bitch, bitch.

Before he can continue ranting and seething, Gavin posts twice more—once to him and once in general.

 **Gavin Free**  
@MLP_Michael But I do like your tattoos. Zelda’s a pretty cool game.

 **Gavin Free**  
Sorry for cussing, mum.

“What a fucking dick!” Michael growls out, running a hand through his hair and typing a simple response. He tries to ignore how his heart picks up a little at Gavin’s comment on his tattoos. He definitely doesn’t care what this guy thinks of him.

“So, you have a date?” Lindsay asks, plucking the laptop from him and logging in to her tumblr. He doesn’t bother answering, partly because he knows that she already knows the answer, mostly because she won’t hear him. She’s looking at pictures of cats again.

Instead Michael slumps against the couch, closing his eyes and trying not to think about tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 6: Coffeeshop

“So, uh… what brings you to Austin?” Gavin asks, eyes focused on the task of making small rings of condensation on the table with the bottom of his plastic cup.

Michael sighs, sipping his own drink and wondering why he chose a Starbucks to meet. Well, probably because it’s one of the few places within walking distance of the hotel that isn’t a bar. And a coffee shop wouldn’t feel too much like a date, which this definitely isn’t. “I’m here with my girlfriend.” He mutters, hand tightening around the cup. “We were supposed to be having a nice vacation together. I’m going to propose to her.”

That makes Gavin look up, his brows furrowed slightly. “Girlfriend? The redhead girl in the pictures with you?” A nod from Michael. “But you and her aren’t…” He gestures to his right hand with his left, frowning a little. “You know.”

“No, we’re not. And fuck you if you have a problem with that.”

“I don’t.” Gavin’s eyes are back on the table, his coffee cup back to making rings of condensation. “If anything it makes my life easier.”

Michael narrows his eyes, finishing his drink with a slurp and setting the cup on the table—maybe with a bit more force than strictly necessary. “The hell does that mean.” He demands.

Again Gavin’s eyes meet his, a sheepish smile on his face. “The whole… soul mates thing. Never really interested me. I didn’t care that much when your name showed up, didn’t ever try to find you—not sober, anyways. I’m glad you’re not obsessed with it, is all.” He sips his own drink, shrugging and rubbing his hand against his thigh. “It’s weird, though. I’ve met a bunch of people here in Austin and I’m trying to make good impressions on all of them and stuff, but then I meet you and…” Gavin shrugs again. “Whatever.”

Nodding slightly, Michael leans back in his chair. “Yeah, it… it is weird. I’m normally not this comfortable with people I don’t know—shit, the only other person I’ve ever even told that to is Lindsay. Why are you in Austin, anyways?” The comfort between them should be nice, but Michael finds himself on edge. It should be nice but it also shouldn’t be there because he only met this guy face to face fifteen minutes ago.

“Ah, I’m working as a consultant for a production company, showing them how to use their new high speed camera.” Gavin grins, finishing his own drink off. “It’s pretty top, lots of fun and lots of work. I figure if I make a good impression they might hire me on full time and I can get a visa to move to the US. I mean I love living and working in England, but I’ve got to branch out, you know? Can’t always be the apprentice.” He stands, stretching slightly and looking at his watch. “I should get going, want to grab some lunch on my way back.”

Michael stands too, looking towards the exit. “Yeah, I should probably head back to the hotel and see if Lindsay wants lunch…” He agrees, collecting the empty cups and tossing them into the nearby garbage can. “It was, uh… interesting to meet you, I guess.”

That makes Gavin pause, another small frown creasing his brow. “Why did you want to meet me, if you don’t care about the soul mates thing?” He questions, holding the door open for Michael as they leave the shop. Neither one really takes notice of the comfortable way they fall into step beside each other as they walk down the busy sidewalk.

“It was Lindsay’s idea…” Michael admits, flushing slightly. “She… I mean obviously she and I don’t have each other’s names. She met her guy and… I guess told him that she loved me instead? I’m not sure, she was kind of vague about it. But then he was in a car accident or something and now he’s in a coma.” Michael’s eyes widen as he turns towards Gavin. “You’re not going to try to kill yourself, right?”

“What? No.” Gavin waves a hand, making a face. “Like I’d top myself over a bloke like you.”

“Christ, that’s gotta be the most annoying way I’ve ever been insulted…” Michael mutters, shaking his head and smiling just a little.

“Well it’s true. Like I said, I don’t fancy gingers.” They fall silent, walking side by side down the street. At the corner Gavin pauses to look around. “Suppose this is goodbye, then?” He asks softly, smiling just slightly.

“Try not to make a production out of it.” Michael smiles back.

“It’s been nice, though… Comfortable.”

“Yeah, it has.”

They regard each other for a moment on the street corner, before Michael sighs. “We’re not gonna kiss.” He declares, turning away and crossing the street with the traffic light.

Still on the corner, Gavin sputters. He flails his arms ineffectively, before finally shouting across the street to Michael. “I wouldn’t kiss you anyways, prick!”

A raised middle finger is his answer, the man not even bothering to turn around. They’re both smiling as they walk away, however.

–

“So where’d you go for lunch?” Burnie asks as soon as Gavin walks into his office. The Brit grins, holding up the takeaway bag from Jersey Mike’s. The other man nods, sitting back and taking another bite of his sandwich. “Trying authentic American food?”

“Something like that. It was on the way back.” Gavin opens his own sandwich and takes a bite, smiling widely. “This is pretty good.”

“They’re not bad. Apparently the original in New Jersey is the absolute best, though.” And two things strike Gavin at once, two things he was completely oblivious of until that moment. He freezes, sandwich still in his mouth, rolling his eyes upwards to look at Burnie.

Jersey. As in New Jersey. As in the place that Michael is from.

Mike’s. Mike being short for Michael. Michael like his soul mate.

Gavin forces himself to take a bite, to chew and swallow and not dwell on this. It was definitely a coincidence. He passed the sandwich chain on the way back from Starbucks was all. It wasn’t like he was _thinking_ about Michael or their meeting or anything. They’d talked and both walked away from it happy and—

“Earth to Gavin, come in Gavin.” Burnie waves a hand in front of his face, startling him. Gavin looks up, blinking a few times.

“Huh?”

“You said you were on your way back from somewhere when you stopped at Jersey Mike’s. Where’d you go before then?”

Gavin hesitates for bare seconds before the story spills from his lips: the near-collision on the plane; the coincidence of being at the same bar at the same time; the twitter messages with Michael the previous night; going to the Starbucks (thankfully getting a ride from Kerry on the way there); the nervousness that had filled him as he looked around for a man with curly auburn hair and video game tattoos. “And then we saw each other across the shop, made eye contact and just…” Gavin takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ve always said that I don’t care about the soul mates thing, that I wouldn’t want to be bothered with a relationship… but seeing Michael, seeing him and knowing who he is and what he’s supposed to mean to me. I thought ‘yeah, I can bother with him.’ And that’s _so_ unlike me and then I was scared because what if he didn’t like me, didn’t want to bother me and then he smiled and… all of that went away. It was like just looking in each other’s eyes, we knew everything there was to know.”

“You ran into him before though, right? On the plane and then at the bar?” Burnie questions, sitting back and rubbing his fingers thoughtfully over his wrist where a name is printed. “You didn’t feel that then?”

“It wasn’t the same… I mean part of me knew it was him, like…” Gavin groans, burying his head in his hands. “This sounds so stupid, but it was like some part of me was…“

“…calling out and finally hearing an answer?” The older man offers, smiling a little at the sandy-haired man’s look of shock. “You’re not the first one to meet your soul mate, Gavin. Ask anyone that’s met theirs… It’s like a part of your life is empty until you meet that one person that fills the gap. Like you’re always searching for something, even if you don’t know what it is or that you’re even looking. And then you meet them, you make that first eye contact or physical contact or, hell, these days even just sending a message online. You meet them and suddenly the world changes around you and it just seems to be _right_ when you’re with them. Within minutes you’re comfortable like you’ve known each other forever. Within hours you can’t imagine being away from that person. It’s a good feeling.”

“Yeah, except he has a girlfriend. He’s going to propose to her.” And Gavin tries to ignore the bitterness in his voice, tries to convince himself that he’s not jealous. He agrees with Michael, they’re in the perfect set-up: Michael doesn’t want to be controlled by the idea of a soul mate and Gavin doesn’t care. So why does the idea of losing Michael before he’s even had him hurt so much?

This whole thing is bollocks.

For his part, Burnie doesn’t look too taken aback by the statement. He shrugs, turning to his laptop and checking his e-mail. “Who says soul mates have to be romantically involved?”

It’s a question that has never crossed Gavin’s mind, one that makes him pause in the act of crumpling his trash to throw away. He looks to Burnie, but the brunette man is focused on his laptop, obviously back to work. Gavin sighs, shrugs, and tosses his garbage in the bin. “I better get back to work. JJ wanted me to help him with some of the audio editing after lunch.” He mumbles, standing and leaving the office.

–

Michael flops onto the hotel’s large bed next to Lindsay with a small groan. He reaches over to take her hand, squeezing lightly. There’s silence between them for a few minutes, before he gives in and speaks up.

“We met.”

“How’d it go?” To her credit, Lindsay doesn’t let her gaze wander from the book she’s reading. She knows Michael well enough to know that having a conversation like this will go easier if they’re not making direct eye contact. The physical contact is enough.

“Well he’s as much of an asshole as I thought he’d be.” Another comfortable silence stretches between them before Michael sits up properly against the headboard. He tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. “But he’s sort of nice… Meeting him, talking with him, it wasn’t weird. I don’t like meeting new people; don’t like trying to find something to talk about. All those awkward pauses and what if I say something that offends someone, you know? Of course you know, I’ve told you this before. But it wasn’t like that with him. I didn’t worry about offending him and even when we weren’t talking it wasn’t awkward. It was like…”

“Like you’d known him for years?” Lindsay offers, finally setting her book down, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Honestly it sounds like you guys had a pretty typical meeting… What’d he say about us being together?”

“That’s the best part.” Michael laughs, shaking his head. “He told me that he doesn’t want to bother with a relationship. He basically said that he’s happy I have you because it means I’m not interested in him. So… everything works out okay.”

He leans over, bracing a hand on the bed and settling the other on Lindsay’s jaw, kissing her slowly and softly and gently. He’s not kissing her because he’s desperate to prove to her that he loves her. He’s not kissing her to try to forget the easy way he’d fallen into sync with Gavin. He’s not kissing her to convince himself that this is what he wants.

Definitely not.

As things grow more heated between them, clothing shedding and kisses being interrupted by moans, Michael forces thoughts of British accents and scruffy beard-stubble from his head. He loves Lindsay and he has Lindsay and he’s going to propose to Lindsay. Soul mate or not, Gavin isn’t the one he wants to be in bed with.

Definitely not.


	8. Chapter 7: Wednesday, Part 1

I’ve got to fix the clock radio here. Being woken up by chatting DJs is one thing, but an absurdly perky, autotuned pop song going on about love being a drug? That’s just too bloody much for six thirty in the morning.

I roll over, hitting the snooze button and burying my face into the pillow. Need to get up and shower, meet Geoff in the kitchen for breakfast before we go to work. For now, though, I just want another five minutes under the blankets. Last night wasn’t a particularly late night and I’ve adjusted well enough to the time change between home and here, but that doesn’t mean I _want_ to be awake when my alarm clock goes off.

Not falling back asleep, instead I review the plans for the day. We’re shooting a short commercial that’s going to make use of the Phantom, something for a video game company. Apparently Burnie’s been holding off on making an offer for the job until I got there, which makes me smile. It’s nice to know that he has so much faith in me, that’s a real confidence boost. According to Geoff everything is ready–scripts reviewed, shots blocked, everything–so today we’re just going to start filming. It should be fun.

My alarm sounds again, a commercial for cheap car insurance. This time I roll out of bed, stumbling for the bathroom and into a warm shower. My mind wanders as I idly soap up, tossing this way and that without much discretion. What should I have for breakfast? Which suitcase are my clean socks in? Will Geoff mind if I take a soda with me to work? What does kissing Michael feel like? How many grapes could I eat in a day? Man grapes are delicious. I bet I could eat at least a hundred in a day. People like grapes.

Wait, was I just wondering about kissing Michael? Where did that come from? I step out of the shower, shaking my head and toweling off, returning to my room to get dressed. Shorts and a t-shirt, socks (they’re in my smaller suitcase, turns out) and trainers. I run a hand through my hair, shrugging indifferently and hoping that it doesn’t look too ridiculous. I’m not that fond of mirrors, didn’t bother to put one in this room. I guess if I look too absurd I’ll fix my hair in the car. Geoff’s reaction should be enough to tell me.

I’m glad I looked okay yesterday, though. It would have sucked if I’d looked like a total idiot meeting Michael. Once again I head to the bathroom, bringing my phone and checking my e-mail and twitter as a brush my teeth. Nothing too new there, just an update from my best mate and fellow Slow Mo Guy Dan, more pictures from Iraq. It always makes me smile to see an update from him, knowing that he’s okay.

Griffon’s making pancakes in the kitchen when I go out there, the radio turned low as she stands over the stove. There’s coffee and juice on the counter and I pour myself a glass, offering the Ramsey’s daughter a smile as I take a seat at the table. Geoff stumbles out to join us soon after, still looking mostly asleep. He grabs a cup of coffee before greeting anyone, planting kisses on his wife and daughter’s cheeks. For a second I think I’m going to get a similar treatment, but instead he smacks a hand against my back.

“Nice hair.” A high-pitched laugh accompanies the comment and I shrug, running a hand through my hair again.

“Looks about as good as yours.”

“Boys, boys.” Griffon interrupts, setting plates of pancakes before us. “You’re both pretty, I promise.”

We chat and eat before it’s time to leave for work, the school bus pulling up just as Geoff is backing out of the driveway. He stops, watching her get on, heading in the opposite direction of the bus.

“Uh, Geoff, the office is the other way.” I note, frowning a little. What is he doing?

“You wanna be stuck behind a school bus all morning? Trust me, this’ll be faster.”

We’re twenty-five minutes late for work.

It’s a busy morning getting ready to film, packing equipment into company vehicles to transport to the first shooting location—an empty lot outside of town. It’s apparently owned by friends of one of the directors (Matt, if I recall—I seem to remember him talking about it at dinner my first night in town) and they’ve given permission for us to film there. Once all the people and equipment are on location we settle in to filming. I’m put in charge of the slow motion segments, which unfortunately aren’t scheduled for another few hours. This sort of thing is the usual, though; on a big production I’m likely to stand around waiting for up to twelve hours, just to get a thirty second shot. The worst part is having to always be ready on those big productions. A second of inattention can get upwards of fifty people chewing you out.

This is more casual, however, people milling about and talking under the tents. I find myself in a conversation with Joel, one of the actors, talking about the stress of working with large productions compared to smaller jobs like this. He’s been on quite a few television shows, always as an extra with maybe one or two short lines and he agrees that there’s a lot more tension there. Everyone’s time is worth so much money on a big production, no one wants to be the guy that screws up. Especially not someone as replaceable as a camera technician or extra.

“It’s why I came back to Austin.” He agrees, taking a handful of grapes from the catering table and tossing one in his mouth. “Working for Burnie is a lot less stressful. Plus, you know, I’m not just bit background parts around here.”

Burnie walks up behind Joel, slapping him on the back companionably. “That’s right, buddy! You’ve had starring roles here!” He laughs, earning a glare from Joel.

“You made me play Hitler.” Joel notes, giving me a sidelong glance. “Twice.”

“Worth it. You were the best Hitler we ever had.” Burnie turns to me, smiling. “We’ll need you at camera in five minutes, Gavin.”

I nod, grabbing a grape and moving over to my set-up, quickly checking everything again. It should be fine, but I still want to make sure. I lift the tablet computer connected to the camera, skimming through the settings and nodding.

The shoot is tiring but fun, everyone working hard to get things just right. It’s almost sunset by the time everyone packs up and leaves, Burnie getting on a megaphone and announcing that today was a great shoot, but tomorrow is going to be an even busier day. It feels like he’s looking directly at Geoff and I when he says that everyone needs to be in to work early, and my gaze drops.

On the trip home, Geoff gives my shoulder a shove. “I’ve been with the company since the start. Trust me, Burnie’s not mad that we were a little late. He doesn’t blame you.” I’m amazed that he knows how much that bothered me and I give him a tentative smile back.

“I wasn’t that worried about it…”

“Bullshit you weren’t. Your poker face sucks. I’m never taking you to Vegas.” He signals, merging onto the highway and frowning. “The main part of the shoot should wrap tomorrow. I’m probably going to have a bar-be-que to celebrate tomorrow night. You wanna invite that Michael guy that you’re soul mates with?”

I start, flushing slightly and turning towards the window, shrugging. “Yeah, sure, I guess I can invite Michael and Lindsay. They might enjoy it, or something.” I can see Geoff’s reflection in the glass, his shit-eating grin. “What?”

“You’ve been thinking about him all day, haven’t you?”

“What?!” I squawk, turning and staring at him. “I-I have not!”

“Yeah, whatever, buddy. You’ve been distant all day and I bet you a hundred dollars it’s because you’ve been thinking about him. Hey, speaking of… for a hundred dollars would you rather take a mentos and coke up your butthole, or in your mouth?”

The topic change is abrupt enough to almost make me dizzy and all I can do is frown. “What are you on about, man?”

“Just a question. You get a hundred dollars, cash, in your pocket. But you have to take a mentos and coke either up your butthole or in your mouth. Which would you do?”

“I don’t know, I guess in my butthole? I mean, it probably would taste nasty in the mouth. Plus it’d come out my nose and stuff.” I shake my head, smiling slightly. “That’s a dumb question.”

“Then you think of one.” Geoff challenges.

I consider it, before shrugging. “Right, so, you get a thousand dollars, cash, every week. But once a week—first thing Monday morning—there’s a dude in your room and you have to munk off in front of him.”

“I get a thousand dollars a week for jacking off in front of some guy?”

“Yeah, you do your thing and he hands you a thousand dollars and leaves.”

“Just some random guy?”

“Some random guy. There’s a chance it’ll be someone you know, though. Like it could be your dad or your high school gym teacher one day, or just… Terry from the market.”

“Yeah, I’d do it.” Geoff turns to me, laughing. “Dude, don’t look so surprised.”

“I just didn’t expect you to agree so easily…” I manage after picking my jaw up off the floor.

We continue the absurd questions on the rest of the trip back to Geoff’s house. My attention is somewhat diverted, however, thinking about Geoff’s suggestion that I invite Michael and Lindsay to the post-shoot bar-be-que. Would it be weird?

It might be. But I realize as we pull into the driveway that, weird or not, I want to invite them.

“Hey, Geoff.” I call as we’re heading inside, hurrying my pace a bit to catch up with him. “I mean… the thing you said about, you know, inviting Michael and Lindsay? You think I should?”

He shrugs, giving my shoulder a light shove. “Your choice. I think they’d probably have a good enough time of it, though. I mean, why not?”

“Yeah… why not?” I smile, heading inside and greeting the two people in the living room before going to my room. I boot up my laptop quickly, sending a private message over twitter to Michael, extending the invitation to Geoff’s bar-be-que. After a moment of hesitation, I add in the phone number Burnie set up for me to use in America, telling him to text me if he wants to.

I try to ignore how warm my cheeks are after sending the message.

It’s not like I’m hoping he’ll text me or something. He has a girlfriend and soul mate or not I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of that. I wouldn’t want to break them up if they make each other happy.

Though it’d be pretty nice to chat with him some more.


	9. Chapter 8: Wednesday, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates, so have a two-fer today!

Wednesday is designated as ‘shopping day.’ I trail behind Lindsay from store to store, carrying bags for her and only sort of meaning it when I complain. It’s mostly gifts for friends and family, anyways, so it’s not like things are _that_ tedious. I’m not opposed to a little shopping spree, even. Though my preferred stop is a video game store or comic book shop, rather than clothing and accessories.

We split up in a strip mall with my adamant refusal to go into a perfume store and help her find a scent for her mom. I might love Lindsay, but I also love my sense of smell. A perfume store will just wreck me and turn my misery from good-natured to real. She agrees to let me go into the game store, saying she’ll come get me when she’s done.

I look at custom controllers, idly wondering if I should get one for my friend Ray. Ray’s a huge gamer, way more into it than I am even, but I don’t know if he’d be into a custom controller. He’s got some weird way of holding his controller that he says makes it easier. I say it makes him crazy. Gavin’s into video games, too, I remember him talking about how he got the job in Austin because he played online with the owner of the company. That’s a pretty crazy coincidence… I wonder if he’d want something from the store?

Ugh, what am I even thinking? It’s not like I’ll be seeing him again so it doesn’t really matter. Besides he’s the one with the fancy cinematography job, if he wants something he can buy it himself. I’m just an electrician, I probably make way less money than him. If I wanted to get him a gift (which I don’t), I’d get him something that had meaning.

Lindsay comes up behind me, nudging my shoulder lightly. “Seriously?” She asks with a sigh, but when I turn to her she’s smiling. “Save the gifts for Ray for the next time you two go on a bro-date, huh?”

“Hey, those were perfectly platonic outings.” I argue as we leave, making a face.

 “Yeah, and all the butt-touching is just the definition of manliness.”

“We only diddled each other a little bit.” I cross my arms with a huff, glancing back towards the store. “Don’t make me go the fuck back in there, woman.”

“Don’t make me drag you out of there by the ear, little boy.” That’s another thing I love about Lindsay, she’s so easy to mock-argue with. She never misses a beat in our pretend yelling matches and is never upset afterwards. She’s like a cool friend that I live with and get to have sex with whenever she wants.

We stop at the condo to drop off our stuff before heading out again to find some lunch. For late afternoon on a Wednesday, the city is surprisingly busy, people rushing around in the sunshine. I take Lindsay’s hand as we walk, offering her a smile. “Too bad we’re not staying here longer, huh? I could get used to wearing a t-shirt and no jacket in December.”

“Yeah…” She runs her thumb over my hand, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. “Except you say that now but come summer you’d bitch about it. I used to have to come to Dallas to visit my grandparents every July. It’s hot as fuck down here then.”

That hadn’t crossed my mind. I make a face. “Ugh. The south in the summer does suck. When my family took a trip to Disney World one summer I just remember being sweaty and miserable the whole time.” Granted, that wasn’t very different from how I was during the summer in New Jersey. I just wasn’t designed to handle the heat.

We grab lunch out of a food truck, sitting down on a park bench to eat. I look around idly as we eat, wondering if I’ll see Gavin around. I mean, Austin’s a big city, but the way we were running into each other a couple of days ago, it’s not impossible, right? Not that I care either way. It’s not like my heart sinks a little when we finish lunch and go back to the stores without spotting the British idiot.

This shopping trip is a little more fun, simply because we’re looking for things for ourselves rather than gifts for other people. Lindsay drags me into every novelty shop along the way, leaving me gasping for air from laughter at all the ridiculous shit she suggests we buy. I get her a few times as well, holding up absolutely absurd items and declaring how good they’ll look in our apartment. The giant inflatable banana that I insist should go in our living room has her nearly wetting herself laughing.

The sun is setting when we head back to the hotel, leaving our stuff by the door and looking over the takeout menus that we’ve collected. It’s a good night to just stay in, I think, relax after the busy day and enjoy each other’s company in private. Lindsay calls to order up some dinner while I take a quick shower. She heads into the bathroom when I’m done and I boot up the laptop while waiting for our food. We’ll put on a movie and watch it while we eat.

I check twitter quickly, frowning to see a personal message notification. Opening it up, I’m surprised to see that it’s from Gavin. My eyebrows lift further when I read the contents—he’s invited Lindsay and I to a bar-be-que at the place he’s staying, something to celebrate a shoot his company is wrapping up.

His phone number is at the bottom of the message.

I grab my phone without thinking, plugging in the number and saving it to my contacts. I tap my fingers against the arm of the couch, debating between sending a response over twitter or over my phone. When I hear the shower shut off I quickly exit the internet browser, switching over to the computer’s store of movies on the hard drive. I don’t know why I don’t want Lindsay seeing that Gavin invited us over and gave me his number… It’s not like it matters, right?

A knock on the front door and I hurry to answer it, giving the delivery a guy a tip and taking the food. Lindsay’s out of the bathroom when I’m done laying it out on the room’s coffee table, smiling and kissing me briefly.

“Hey…” I mumble, setting a hand on her hip and planting another kiss on her lips. “I got a message over twitter from Gavin. He invited us to this… bar-be-que thing that the guy he’s staying with is hosting. You wanna go?”

“Mmm… sure.” She smiles and I can’t help but wonder why I was so worried about Gavin’s invitation. There’s nothing to worry about, after all. Gavin’s not interested and I’m involved. There’s nothing wrong with us just hanging out.

Still, I just won’t tell her he gave me his number. I don’t think it matters, anyways.

I send a message back while Lindsay is in the other room drying her hair, letting Gavin know that we’ll be glad to join him. After a moment I add in my number, telling him to text me if he wants. Why not, we’re just friends, right?

Yeah, just friends.

Lindsay and I settle on the couch and turn the movie on, eating and chatting over the opening scenes. It’s a familiar film, one that we both consider a favorite, so it’s not like we’re missing much when we talk over it. My phone buzzes next to me as we’re eating and I pick it up, seeing the notification of a new message from Gavin. He’s curious if we want a ride to Geoff’s place or just directions. I type back that an address will be fine, we’ll take a cab unless it’s some absurd distance away.

“Who’s that?” Lindsay asks, resting her head on my shoulder, her eyes on the screen.

“Eh, just Ray asking if we’re having a good time. He says to get him a gift because he’s a selfish prick.” Why did I just lie to Lindsay? I love her, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to her who I’m texting. Ugh, this is just too much to think about.

“We’ll have to find something for him later.” I nod as my phone buzzes again, Gavin giving the address and adding that it’s quite a ways away from our hotel. Before I can respond, he sends a second message, stating that they’re going to be filming downtown tomorrow and Geoff doesn’t mind giving Lindsay and I a ride to his place if we can be near the filming location when they wrap around 5.

I tap the phone against the couch, before replying that we can pull that off. A few minutes later Gavin texts me with the exact streets they’ll be filming on. Lindsay’s attention is still on the screen, her gaze barely moving when I drop the phone into my pocket.

“So how is he?” She asks, rubbing my thigh lightly.

“Seems fine to me. Excited about tomorrow, I think.” I freeze, remembering that I told her I was talking to Ray. Shit, shit.

“Huh. What’s going on tomorrow?” Lindsay’s eyes are still on the screen, laughter leaving her as a character does something particularly stupid.

“It’s the day he’s getting let into that new game beta. You know Ray, always looking for more Gamerscore.”

“Oh yeah. Hope he has fun with that.” She smiles, leaning up and kissing my cheek. “Now quit texting before you miss all the good parts of the movie.”

I try not to feel guilty about lying to her, but it’s difficult when I just did, quite blatantly, lie to my soon-to-be fiancé.

The hell is wrong with me?


	10. Chapter 9: Cook Out

Michael and Lindsay are on the designated streets by 5 in the evening, behind a barrier with a crowd of people. He spots Gavin a ways up the road, crouched behind a camera, and points him out to Lindsay. There are plenty of other people there, clearly hard at work. Things seem to be running late, the numbers on Michael’s watch climbing towards 6 and the sun quickly lowering behind buildings as the work continues.

“Alright, everyone!” A voice calls over a megaphone, loud and crystal-clear in the evening air. “That’s a wrap! Thanks for all your hard work, guys. Let’s get cleared out of here so people can be on their way.” The crowd starts to disperse as the crew begins clean-up, Michael and Lindsay remaining near the barrier.

A man with tattoos painted up and down his arms and a scruffy beard approaches them, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Michael and Lindsay?” He questions.

“Yeah.” Michael answers back, taking Lindsay’s hand and squeezing it lightly. “Who’re you?”

“Geoff Ramsey. Gavin said you two would be around here. Come on, we could use the extra help if you guys don’t mind. We’re overdue to be off the streets.” He pulls the barrier aside, letting them in and pointing towards the tent. “If you can help load catering into the back of the van, that’d be great.”

Gavin looks up as they pass him, offering a brief smile before returning to the computer in front of him. The Phantom takes up a lot less space than some of the other cameras, but its complicated wiring requires extra time to disassemble. Not exactly the best moment to go have a chat.

The sun is almost below the horizon by the time everyone and everything is loaded into various vehicles. Gavin is about to hop into the passenger seat of Geoff’s car when he spots Michael and Lindsay, abruptly remembering that he invited them out. He jogs over, offering a sheepish smile and scratching the back of his head. “Sorry that took so long.”

“It’s alright. We weren’t exactly standing around, your friend Geoff put us to work.” Michael smiles back, his hand dropping from Lindsay’s so he can rub his hip lightly. “Busy day?”

“Absolutely crazy. I could really use a kip about now.” Gavin laughs, before turning to Lindsay, offering his hand. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t introduce myself. Gavin Free. You’re Lindsay, right?”

“Lindsay Tuggey.” She agrees, shaking his hand and smiling. “I haven’t been on a filming location since college. Sure is different in the professional world.”

“You did film in college?”

“Worked with the school TV station for a couple of semesters. Never anything more than a hobby and paycheck, though.” Lindsay smiles, purposely taking Michael’s hand again. “Didn’t realize we’d get to watch some of the magic happen, though.”

Gavin grins, nodding towards Michael. “Yeah, we texted last night and agreed that this would be easier to meet up than taking a cab to Geoff’s. Anyways, come on, before we get left behind.” He leads them to a car, nodding to the tattooed man inside before climbing into the passenger seat. Michael holds the back door for Lindsay, catching her eye as she slides in.

Well, he’s in trouble.

–

The Ramsey house, Michael and Lindsay discover, is _very_ fucking nice. The house isn’t overly large or lavishly decorated, but the lawn is well cared for, the driveway is newly tarred, and the backyard is like a work of art. A bi-level deck runs the length of the house, sliding glass doors leading into the kitchen on the upper level and the den on the lower level. The upper level hosts a large picnic table and a grill, while the lower level has a perfect view of the big screen television in the den, a number of comfortable chairs and even a hot tub from which the screen can be seen. A swimming pool runs perpendicular to the deck, the space under the raised portion having been converted into a storage area.

The entire yard is lit by hanging paper lanterns, giving it a festive feel. Wood and metal carvings dot the space (Griffon informs them that they’re some of her non-gallery works when she finds them staring) and it’s all enclosed by a high wooden fence. In the back corner is a shed, which Geoff laughingly tells them is where they’re going to make Gavin live if he doesn’t keep the guest room clean.

The pair find themselves easily chatting with Griffon and her daughter while Geoff and Gavin shower and change from the day, drinking beers and talking about what they’ve done so far in Austin. Lindsay mentions that she saw a flyer for Griffon’s gallery in the hotel lobby and Griffon immediately invites them inside to see pictures from a recent show. Michael follows the chatting girls, sipping his beer and looking around casually.

A door opens to his left just as Griffon and Lindsay are heading up a short flight of stairs, Gavin’s head poking out of the room. He spots Michael, smiling and waving him over. “Hey, Michael, over here.” Shrugging, the curly-haired man ducks into the room, lifting an eyebrow.

“You better clean up before Geoff makes you go live in the shed.” He notes, taking another swallow of his beer and gazing around the room.

“I’ll do it over the weekend.” Gavin waves a hand distractedly, taking a seat on his bed and frowning just slightly at Michael, who is still leaned against the door. “You didn’t tell Lindsay what the plan was?”

“Shit, man…” Michael sighs, stepping over and dropping onto the bed next to him. “I didn’t even tell her we were texting last night. She’s gonna fuckin’ rip me a new one later.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Gavin snatches the beer from his hand, taking a sip before handing it back. Michael can’t bring himself to be upset by the action.

“Don’t know. I… it’s not even like I didn’t _tell_ her, she asked me and I _lied_. I never lie to Lindsay, not about anything, but I said that it was one of our friends back home I was texting with.” He frowns, shifting his drink to his left hand, idly rubbing his hip with his right.

Gavin reaches over, carefully setting his right hand on Michael’s hip, a shiver passing through both of them at the contact. For the first time, Gavin’s not wearing the glove, the name scrawled on the back of his hand clearly visible. Michael looks down at it, caught somewhere between amazement and a surreal sense of rightness that he can’t explain. “It’s so weird…” He mutters, lifting his shirt just enough to let Gavin’s hand touch bare skin. “So weird that it doesn’t bother me.”

“Everyone I talk to says the same things… That it’s like filling in a gap you didn’t even realize you had. Finding a missing puzzle piece that completes the picture with something you didn’t even know was missing. Calling out and…”

“…finally hearing an answer.” They exchange a glance, cheeks flushing as they quickly look away. Gavin drops his hand and Michael lowers his shirt again.

“I have a girlfriend.” The curly-haired man states, looking intently at the floor between his sneakers.

“I know.” Gavin flops back onto the bed, reaching behind Michael and grabbing his glove from where he’d left it earlier, slowly pulling it on.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” His shoes are fascinating, the way the toe of his sneaker can draw little patterns in the thick cream colored rug.

“You told me this already.” And now he has an arm over his eyes, as if he has a headache.

“I think I want to kiss you.” Michael starts, as if surprised by the words.

Next to him, Gavin stiffens, slowly lowering his arm. “I think…” He swallows, averting his green eyes even though Michael isn’t looking at him. “I’d like that.”

“You think you would?”

“I know I would.”

The bed shifts slightly as Michael moves, first leaning over to put his beer on the nearby desk, and then rolling over. He kneels above Gavin, bracing himself with an arm next to the other man’s shoulder, leaning in close. Warm, alcohol-scented breath mixes between them, their eyes remaining steadily on each other. When Michael waits too long to lean down and initiate the kiss, Gavin arches his back, bringing their lips together slowly.

Sparks don’t fly, but Michael closes his eyes, following Gavin’s lips downward when the other man relaxes into the comforter. He tilts his head slightly, feeling a hand on his head, fingers threading through his hair. The hand he’s not using to brace himself up gently slips behind Gavin’s neck, holding the back of his head and bracing him up slightly.

They barely break for breath, lips still millimeters apart, eyes meeting again and both of them breathing a little raggedly. They search each other’s eyes, neither sure what he’s looking for, before seeming to reach a consensus and going in for another kiss.

A fist pounding on the door nearly gives Michael a heart attack, the auburn-haired man almost throwing himself off the bed in his hurry to disengage from the kiss. “Hey, Gavin, are you still in there? Hurry up, man, people are starting to show up!” Geoff yells through the door, knocking again before his footsteps retreat down the hall.

Gavin and Michael regard each other, still a bit breathless, the sandy-haired man still lying under his soul mate. Then Michael sighs, pushes himself up from the bed and wipes an arm across his mouth. “I… I should go find Lindsay.” He mutters, backing towards the door and slipping out of the room.

Rolling onto his side, Gavin lets the pleasant shivers run through him. Kissing a one night stand has never felt like _that_ before. He sits up, taking Michael’s half-drank beer from the desk and finishing it quickly, bringing the empty bottle with him when he leaves the room.

–

Michael sticks to Lindsay like glue for the rest of the evening, trying to ignore the way his cheeks warm up every time he makes eye contact with Gavin across the yard. For his part Gavin seems intent on avoiding his own guests, talking animatedly with almost everyone but the two of them.

Unfortunately for the sandy-haired man, Griffon picks up on this behavior. Even though Michael and Lindsay seem to be having a good time (Lindsay is discussing fashion with a couple of the other girls and Michael is in a heated discussion about video games with some of the editors, from what she can tell), it’s obvious to the blonde woman that her British house guest is avoiding the very people he invited over. She frowns, before stepping up next to Gavin, gently pulling him from the conversation he’s currently involved in.

“Mind giving me a hand in the kitchen?”

Gavin agrees, of course, following her inside and looking around. The dishes are already in the dishwasher, all the foods and drinks are outside. He squints, trying to figure out what Griffon needs help with. “So, uh…”

“What happened with you and Michael in your room earlier?” There’s no point in beating around the bush with it. The way Gavin’s cheeks redden tells her more than his words probably will, anyways.

“Nothing!” He squeaks out, looking away and shuffling his feet. “I-I mean, we just talked and—I wasn’t getting _cheeky_ , he was the one that wanted to kiss _me_.” And his eyes widen the same as hers, realizing he’s said too much.

“Gavin.” There’s no anger in her voice, though, even though she knows as well as he does that Michael’s in a relationship. If anything she’s sympathetic, pulling him into a hug and rubbing his back. “It’s tough, fighting against something as powerful as fate. Don’t let yourself be hurt, okay? You two need to talk—not just you two, you and him and Lindsay all need to discuss this. Figure out what you’re going to do so that there’s as little hurt as possible.”

Gavin presses his face into her shoulder, closing his eyes. He feels like he’s being hugged by his own mother again. “It doesn’t matter…” He mumbles, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Griffon. “He’s gonna ask Lindsay to marry him and they’re going to go back to New Jersey and get married and… and I’m gonna just be Gavin, without a soul mate. Gavin who doesn’t give a toss anyways.”

“You don’t care even after you met him?”

“It doesn’t matter because he’s not interested in me.” He sighs, a little shakily. This is too much to think about when he’s been drinking.

“Are you sure he doesn’t care, when he’s the one who kissed you?” Griffon gently pushes him back, offering a smile.

“Well… I might have kissed him back.” He admits, flushing again and rubbing the back of his right hand.

“The three of you need to talk, okay? So make sure you do it before they leave town.” Griffon swats his ass then, pointing. “Now come on, let’s get back to the party.”

He’s somehow more relaxed after the talk with Griffon, drinking and chatting. Eventually he wanders across the yard to Michael and Lindsay, finally asking his guests if they’re enjoying their evening.

“Yeah, it’s great.” Lindsay grins, taking another sip of her drink. “You guys sure know how to party.”

“Tell me about it.” Gavin agrees, looking around. “And on a Thursday, too. We’ve all got to get to work tomorrow.”

Michael slips his hand into Lindsay’s, squeezing tightly. “We should probably get going…” He begins, pointedly not making eye contact with Gavin. “Fuck. Lindsay, how are we getting back to the hotel? I don’t want to ask anyone to drive us.”

“You can stay the night.” Gavin blurts out before the redhead girl can answer, coughing lightly and shifting his weight. “I mean, I don’t think Geoff and Griffon will mind, the couch in the den is a sleeper sofa so if you want to… We can drop you back off at the hotel in the morning.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Lindsay is quick to agree, her eyes darting to Michael.

“Yeah… better than a cab ride.” He takes another swallow from his beer, leaning over and kissing Lindsay’s lips. Gavin notices Michael’s eyes straying towards him as they kiss and pointedly looks away.

What was he thinking, inviting them to stay the night? That’s only going to cause more problems.

Well it’s not like he can retract the invitation now.


	11. Chapter 10: Sleep Over

Griffon and Geoff easily agree to let Michael and Lindsay stay the night, lending them some clothes to sleep in and helping them get settled once the last of the night’s guests have left. The pair bid their younger houseguests goodnight, retreating upstairs to their own bed. Gavin sits up with Michael and Lindsay even though all three of them have to be up early, drinking and chatting.

The conversation is light, casual, mostly talk about their childhoods. Michael keeps a hand on Lindsay’s knee as they sit next to each other on the sofa-bed, his eyes only occasionally straying to Gavin’s face. Gavin in turn tries to keep his attention equally divided between the two, fighting the urge to fidget in his chair. For her part, Lindsay seems oblivious to the boys’ actions. It’s only when she starts nodding off that conversation lags.

“Lindsay, you can go to bed if you want.” Michael murmurs in her ear, smiling just a little when she immediately lies down and yanks a blanket over herself. He leans down, kissing her cheek before carefully standing from the bed.

“Where you…” A yawn from the redhead girl, her face already mostly in the pillow “…goin’?”

“Just gonna finish my beer.” He smiles, stepping outside and nodding Gavin along. The glass door slides shut behind them, Michael walking to the edge of the deck and sipping from his beer.

Gavin walks up next to him, smiling and slipping an arm around Michael’s waist when the other man leans his head onto his shoulder. “You can go to sleep if you want to.”

“Look who’s talking. I can sleep tomorrow at the hotel, you have work.”

“I’ll be fine.” There’s silence between them as they drink, Gavin’s fingertips brushing over his name on Michael’s hip. They turn to each other abruptly, speaking at the same time.

“Michael, we need to—“

“Gavin, I can’t just—“

Laughter from both of them, soft but genuine, before Gavin nods for him to speak. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t just… not tell Lindsay what’s going on, Gavin. Whatever even is going on, I don’t fuckin’ know. But I have to tell her… I love her, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. It’s not right to be… I dunno, sneaking around lying to her.” He sighs, brown eyes drifting out over the yard. “I can’t do that to her.”

“I agree.” Gavin nods just a little, his hand slipping from around Michael’s waist, resting on the deck’s railing as he looks into the yard again. “We need to talk, all three of us, and figure out what’s going on. Kissing you earlier… it felt really… like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And just hanging out with you, chatting or whatever, it’s so natural to me.” He takes the last swallow from his beer, setting the empty on the railing and sighing. “But I’m not a homewrecker. I’m not going to get between you and Lindsay.”

Michael nods, closing his eyes for a moment to consider it. “Let’s meet for dinner.” He offers after a moment, smiling slightly. “Tomorrow night, Lindsay and I were planning to go out anyways. I was gonna propose to her, so… let’s meet up, the three of us, and go out to dinner and discuss it. No secrets, no lies, no bullshit. We’ll work it out.”

“That sounds good. If Geoff doesn’t want to drop me off, I can take a cab. Just let me know when and where to be.” They share a smile, before Michael grows serious again.

“For now, though…”

“For now?” A raised eyebrow from Gavin, his attention on the slightly shorter man.

“For now I want to kiss you again.”

Gavin’s happy to oblige.

–

Lindsay lets the curtain fall from her fingertips, stepping back from the now-obscured sight of her boyfriend—practically her fiancé—kissing another man. She shouldn’t be watching them in a private moment; it’s as much of an invasion as if someone were to watch her and Michael in their private moments. And it’s not jealousy that makes her heart clench in her chest. How can she feel something as bitter as jealousy, when she’s had so many amazing times with Michael? If being with Gavin is what makes him happy, she’ll accept it. She promised to love him no matter what, during that conversation that now feels like it took place in another lifetime. She’s promised to love him no matter what so many times over the years—his eighteenth birthday when he revealed that the name branded on his skin wasn’t hers, her own eighteenth when she didn’t get his name—through so many trials and tribulations that come with a long term relationship. And she will love him. Just… maybe not tonight, maybe not right away. Letting go is harder to do than she thought it’d be, is all.

Turning and slipping under the sheets again, Lindsay tries to block out the quiet voices as the door slides open, the soft biddings of goodnight. She doesn’t flinch away from Michael’s hand brushing her hair from her face, only moves when he settles into the bed beside her, curling into his arms around her. She has him for tonight and she’s going to enjoy every second of it that she’s awake for. She needs the good memories to fill in the gap that’ll appear in her heart when she loses him.

–

Morning comes far too early for everyone in the Ramsey household, alarm clocks being dutifully ignored until the last possible minute. Every adult stumbles for the coffee, standing around bleary-eyed drinking in the caffeine while the youngest Ramsey, all of eight years old, looks at the five adults in the room with amused disappointment. Griffon sees her off to the bus before breakfast is even considered for the hungover adults, hardly anyone managing to choke down more than a token amount of food.

The car ride across the city is nearly silent, Geoff giving a tired wave as he drops Michael and Lindsay off at their hotel. Michael leans into the passenger side of the car for a moment, resisting the urge to kiss Gavin again in favor of speaking to him quietly. “Text me when you’re on lunch, I’ll get you the details for tonight.”

The two men take off in the car as Michael turns to Lindsay, taking her hand and planting a firm kiss on her mouth.

“Morning breath.” She notes, kissing him again and leading him towards the elevator. “Let’s get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah…” Michael fights down a yawn, leaning on the side of the elevator and closing his eyes. “We need to talk, too, don’t we?”

“More than a little, but it can wait.”

He forces his eyes open, looking to her and nodding just slightly. “Lindsay… I love you. I promise that much, I love you no matter what.”

She smiles, her gaze shifting away from his a bit too quickly. “I love you too, Michael.”

They fall into the large hotel bed with only their jeans removed, curling up together and passing out again until the buzz of messages from Gavin on Michael’s phone wakes them up.

–

Everyone at the company seems to be half-asleep during the morning, barely focusing on their jobs. Kara yawns next to him as she cleans lenses, seeming to be the most focused person in the equipment room at the moment. Gavin’s almost positive that Chris is asleep in the corner, rather than checking the cables on the camera. He turns his attention to the Phantom in front of him, blinking a few times and trying to make sense of the display.

“Look alive, guys!” Burnie calls with almost sadistic cheer, stepping into the room and looking among the technicians. “Come on, we had a successful week and our editors busted their asses to get a rough copy out. They say we’ll be screening after lunch!” He claps his hands twice before stepping out of the room, the sound making all three camera techs wince.

“He does this every time.” Kara notes, sighing and setting the lenses aside. “Burnie Burns’ personal revenge on us for daring to have a good time.”

“What a prick.” Gavin mumbles, leaning back and closing his eyes. “They’ve got a rough-up already, though? You guys move fast.”

“It’s not us, trust me.” Chris mumbles from the other side of the room, leaning over the camera and looking between Gavin and Kara. “Anyone else notice the complete lack of editors at the party last night?”

Kara nods slowly, picking up another lens to begin cleaning it. “Yeah, JJ and Brandon at least were here all night. They’ll be out unwinding this weekend while the effects team busts ass to have a final product to show everyone on Monday.” She smiles a little, running a hand through her hair briefly. “Then again, we’ll be out partying tonight too, huh? You want to come with, Gavin? We’re going to Sixth Street.”

Gavin shrugs, turning back to the monitor and toggling through settings without much attention. “I might join up with you, but I’ve got dinner plans first.”

“With that guy from the party last night?” He tries unsuccessfully to hide a blush, shrugging and looking away. “You two looked cute, stealing glances at each other across the yard all ni—“

“ _Kara_.” Chris cuts her off and Gavin shoots him a grateful glance, left hand idly rubbing the back of his right hand.

“Fine, sorry. I was just saying…” Kara mumbles, putting down the lens and leaning on the table. “At least today’s going by fast. 11:30 already.”

As if slowed down by the attention drawn to it, the rest of the morning passes at a crawl.

–

“Alright.” Michael sets his phone down on the table, taking the offered cup of coffee from Lindsay as she joins him on the couch. “Gavin’s going to meet us at the restaurant at five. He says that he’ll cab home if Geoff doesn’t want to come pick him up after dinner.” His eyes drop to the phone, before he sighs and taking a sip of his coffee. “Lindsay, we need to talk…”

“Yeah.” She leans forward, taking his hand and brushing her thumb over his knuckles lightly. “Yeah, we do.”

“I’m sorry…” His voice is barely a whisper, so different from his usual tone. He can’t meet her eyes, instead staring intently at their linked hands. “I’m so sorry I don’t know what I’m even doing anymore…”

“Just start from the beginning, Michael.”

And he does, detailing his coffee shop meeting with Gavin. The way he couldn’t get the sandy-haired Brit off his mind the rest of the day or the next day. How he’d had to convince himself that kissing Lindsay was what he wanted, something he’d never even though about before. His rash and irrational decision to lie about the exchange of phone numbers. The way that just the sight of the other man makes his heart speed up, just the sound of his voice causes shockwaves through his brain and the touch of his hand can leave him shivering. How scared he is of these feelings, of the lack of control he has.

Michael swallows, detailing the previous evening, the conversation in Gavin’s bedroom, the light, innocent-yet-intimate touches, the kisses. His own shame for the rest of the evening at his behavior, especially the way he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Gavin across the yard. The conversation on the deck after Lindsay had gone to bed, the second moment of physical intimacy.

Lindsay nods through it, holding him to her chest as if he’s an upset child by the time he’s done with the shaky speech. She strokes his hair, sighing and kissing the top of his head.

“I’m way more mad that you took this long to talk to me about it, Michael. You know I love you, so why hide it?”

“I don’t know!” He pushes back slightly, face flushed with emotion. “That’s the shittiest fucking part, I have no idea why I’m acting like this! The fuckin’ soul mates thing never meant anything to me before I met this prick and now… now I can’t get him off my mind! What a fucking asshole!”

He breathes heavily for a moment, staring at the couch. When he looks up at Lindsay she’s biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Christ, the way you talk about him, I might get jealous. You haven’t called me a fucking bitch in months, babe.” She snickers and he grins, planting a quick kiss on her laughing lips.

“You’re a goddamn bitch and you know it.”

“And you love it.”

Michael doesn’t hesitate, planting another kiss on her. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love you, Lindsay. Even with all this crap, I love you.”

They talk for another hour or so, until it’s time to get ready to go out to dinner. The only conclusion they really come to, however, is that they need to discuss all of this with Gavin before making any real decisions.


	12. Chapter 11: Table Talk

“Can I start anyone off with a drink?” The waitress asks, setting menus on the table in the back corner of the restaurant. Michael sits down between Lindsay and Gavin, girlfriend on his right and soul mate on his left, hoping they don’t look like some weird threesome waiting to happen. And guessing that they totally do.

“Uh, water.” He mutters, picking up the menu and flipping to the back to skim the drink selection. He could go for a beer, but somehow it seems like going for the booze in the face of their pending conversation would be a bad move.

“Iced tea.” Lindsay’s hand snakes under the table to squeeze his as she places her order, a smile on her face.

“Coke.” Gavin’s hand settles on his knee under the table as the waitress writes down their orders and walks away. Both of them squeeze at the same time.

Well, fuck.

“Look, guys.” Michael leans back, carefully disengaging both of them. “We’re going to solve this, but could we cut down the fuckin’ sexual tension while the waitress is here?”

Averted eyes and mutterings from the people on either side of him. Michael fights the urge to groan and slam his head into the table. Since when did _he_ have to be the adult? That just wasn’t fucking fair. The whole situation is a lot more awkward than he thought it would be, because really, how is a person supposed to solve something like this? He’s not going to move to Utah, that’s for fucking sure.

By the time the waitress comes back with their drinks things are a bit more casual, Lindsay starting up a conversation about some of the equipment she saw at the filming yesterday. Gavin mentions that the editors had a rough copy for them, lacking effects but still cohesive, after lunch and that the shoot turned out really well. He’s excited to see the final product when the effects team is done with it and promises to let Michael and Lindsay know just what the commercial was for as soon as he’s cleared to talk about it, so that they can look for it on television.

“All I can say for now is that it’s a spot for a video game. We had two film locations and a lot of the really iconic stuff is going to be added in post.” Gavin grins. “I’m really excited to see it. It’s gonna be tippy-toppers.”

“I was always terrified of watching final products.” Lindsay admits with a laugh, shaking her head. “I felt like I’d only ever see my mistakes, so after the final editors screening I hardly ever watched anything I worked on.”

“I did, though.” Michael cuts in with a grin. “Never caught a single mistake that was her fault. Lindsay’s a great editor.”

“Eh, it’s just a hobby.” She waves a hand dismissively, smiling. “Just something to earn some spending money during college. I’ll keep my current job, thank you.”

“What is your job, Lindsay?” Gavin questions, frowning a little. “Michael’s an electrician I know, but I never asked you.”

“Oh. I’m a columnist for a couple of websites. Uh, a couple of television review spots are my big ones, but I also do some promotions for upcoming stuff.” She laughs, shrugging. “It’s a job I can do in my pajamas, which is like a dream come true.”

The waitress returns with their entrees, effectively ending the conversation about work. There’s a calm silence as they begin to eat, sharing food among their plates and only commenting on the quality of the food (excellent) and lightly making fun of each other’s choices. Michael sits back after a few minutes, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Alright, so I want to approach this sober, but I also really want a damn beer, so let’s get on with it.”

The calm atmosphere immediately dissolves, Lindsay and Gavin nervously exchanging glances with each other before looking to Michael. And again, he curses that he’s the one thrust into the leadership role here.

“Fuckit. Lindsay, we’ve talked. You know I love you, you know I have for fuckin’… almost eight years now. You know I pretty much proposed to you on Monday morning, and you’ve probably already guessed that I’ve got the ring in my pocket now.” She smiles, nodding along with his words. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Gavin swallow and look down, so he turns to address the Brit.

“Gavin, I met you on Tuesday. It’s… things are moving really fast and at least part of that is because of lack of time, we’re leaving Austin on Sunday. But it’s also because of the names on us and… and whatever it is that they do.” Gavin’s nodding as well, which is a definite plus.

“So I guess the real question is… what’s more important to me? Until extremely recently I didn’t give a fuck about fate. Now I really can’t imagine not being with you, in some capacity—“

“Michael.” Gavin cuts him off, looking up, but Michael presses a hand to his lips.

“Lemme finish. I can’t imagine not being with you. But I can’t imagine not being with Lindsay either. I’ve built so much of my life with her and I want to build even more. It’s—“

“Michael.” Gavin interrupts again, pushing his hand away slightly.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m only gonna be this fucking sentimental once, you prick.” Michael growls out, taking a deep breath. “I think I want to—“

“We can be friends, you donut!” Gavin exclaims before he can finish his thought.

Things seem to freeze for a moment, none of the people at the table moving.

Gavin breaks from it first, laughing and shaking his head. “We’re all so worried about this, but—but what’s there to worry about? We can be friends, Michael. And Lindsay and I can be friends too, because Lindsay you’re a real lovely girl.” He shakes his head, laughing harder at their dumbstruck expressions. “Did you really think that you had to give up your relationship because of me? Or change it somehow?”

“But you’re soul mates…” Lindsay whispers next to Michael, blinking rapidly and trying to grasp the situation.

“Yeah, and? Burnie told me the first day Michael and I met for coffees, soul mates doesn’t mean we have to be romantically involved. I’ve been thinking about it and while I like kissing you a bloody lot, Michael, we don’t _have_ to. Especially if Lindsay doesn’t want us to.”

There’s more stunned silence around the table, before the redhead girl speaks up.

“You know… I don’t mind. As long as you guys are honest with me about what’s going on—“ she pinches Michael’s cheek with a smile “—and I mean _honest_ , Michael Jones, then… I don’t really have a problem with it.

“No threeways, though. No offense, Gavin, but you’re not my type.”

The Brit snickers, nodding. “I know, I’m not a temperamental yank.”

The two laugh on either side of him, unaware of Michael’s continued slack-jawed expression. He snaps back to reality just as the waitress comes back, sending her hurrying away with his outburst.

“Just what the _fuck_ guys!”

The two laugh even harder, leaning in and planting kisses on his flushed cheeks at the same time.

Michael sits back and crosses his arms, wishing he could look two directions at once so he can glare at them both at the same time.

What the fuck.

–

Rather than calling Geoff for a ride after dinner, the trio returns to Michael and Lindsay’s hotel. Michael has calmed down from his shock during dinner and talk has returned to more normal subjects. It’s only as they’re taking the elevator up that the auburn-haired man bursts into another string of cusses.

“Lindsay, I forgot to fucking propose to you!” He exclaims, slapping a hand to his forehead. “I left the goddamn ring in my pocket, why didn’t you remind me?!”

“Because it’d be weird to be like ‘oh, and can you hold our desserts until my idiot boyfriend remembers to pop the question?’ or something.” Lindsay snickers, shaking her head. “Come on, Michael, you already proposed to me once in the hotel room. If you really want to, just gimme the ring right here.”

“Wait!” Gavin exclaims as the elevator doors open. He tugs the two into the elevator lobby, looking around and pointing to a bench fronted on a window, giving a nice view of the city at night. “Lindsay, you sit on the bench and Michael you propose to her there!” He commands happily, gesturing and lightly pushing. “I’ll take pictures for you! Michael, give me your phone so I can record it!” Too stunned to fight it, Michael hands over his phone.

Without a hesitation Gavin is on his knees, snapping pictures with his phone as Lindsay and Michael exchange a look. They shake their heads but comply, Lindsay sitting down and Michael fumbling the box from his pocket, dropping to one knee and looking her in the eyes.

And even with an excited British soul mate beside him snapping away with his camera (it makes an incredibly irritating bird-like squawk for every picture and Michael is going to break his phone later for it, he swears), he feels his heart pounding. Lindsay has already said yes, he shouldn’t be this nervous but—

“Lindsay… Lindsay Tuggey, I love you…” He begins in a whisper, finding his voice as he goes on. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, you’re my soul mate no matter what the name on my hip says…” And here he gives a sideways glance to Gavin, sticking his tongue out briefly (the squawk assures him that there’s a picture of the moment), before his attention returns to Lindsay. “You’re the only one I can see myself being with forever. The only person I’ve ever put so much effort into caring about and the only person I could imagine trying so hard with. I… I’m givin’ you my heart here, Lindsay… will you marry me?”

There’s tears in her eyes as she sets her hands over his, her voice choked. She squeaks out a ‘yes’ and he pulls the ring from the box, slipping it onto the third finger of her left hand. Michael stands and Lindsay jumps into his arms, kissing him hard as he lifts her from the ground. The camera squawks again and again as he spins her around, both of them laughing and kissing.

Finally he sets her down again, planting a kiss on either of her cheeks as the camera finally shuts up. “I love you, Michael Jones.” She whispers, holding him tight.

“Love you too, Lindsay Tuggey.”

“Guys…” Gavin’s voice interrupts the moment, sounding just slightly choked up. “That was beautiful… and I filled my memory card.”

“You better be getting emotional over my fucking marriage proposal, Gavin.” Michael grinds out, releasing one hand from Lindsay to yank the Brit over. He plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth, glancing to Lindsay for her reaction. She’s still smiling, her hand slipping down to link firmly with his.

“Well, a little bit.” Gavin admits, leaning over and kissing Lindsay on the cheek. “Congratulations, guys.”

–

They head to the hotel room, Michael and Lindsay booting up the computer to place a skype call to her parents, showing off the engagement ring and excitedly squeezing Michael’s hand as they talk. She asks if he wants to skype with his own parents but Michael shrugs it off, instead kissing her on the cheek again and linking their fingers together. Gavin has kept prudently off the webcam and silent, doing something on his phone while they chatted. Now Michael calls him over to the couch, slipping his free arm around the Brit and smiling widely.

“I feel like a fucking pimp.”

“A pimp usually has more than two fine hos under his arms, Michael.” Lindsay notes dryly, slipping away and going to change out of her nice dress. “You guys want to go to the bar?” She calls from the bathroom.

“I should probably get home. Geoff’s been texting me asking how things went and stuff.” Gavin notes, wiggling just a bit closer to Michael.

The auburn-haired man frowns, leaning over and kissing the Brit slowly. “You could stay…” He offers, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “We can go to the bar and then you can stay with us, if you want… and if Lindsay’s okay with it.” His voice is low, lips ghosting lightly over Gavin’s temple as he speaks.

“Well… don’t you two want some alone time after tonight?” He questions, looking towards the bathroom door. “I don’t want to get between you two.”

“Trust me, you’re not.”

Gavin shakes his head though, slipping out of Michael’s arm as the bathroom door opens. “You two go on out, okay?” He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m bloody knackered, you know? Had to work all day, remember? Besides, Geoff’s going to start blowing up my phone if I don’t talk to him soon.”

Lindsay goes in for the hug first, smiling and kissing Gavin on the cheek. “Alright, well, don’t be a stranger, okay? We’re in Austin until Sunday, so let’s hang out before then. Have a nice night, Gav.” She gives Michael a glance and he nods, standing and moving towards the door.

“C’mon, I’ll wait for Geoff in the lobby with you.” He offers, holding the door open for Gavin. They ride down to the lobby in relative silence, taking a seat on one of the couches.

“Gavin, are you sure you’re okay with—“ Michael starts, interrupted once again by the Brit.

“I’m scared.” He admits quietly, grabbing for Michael’s hand and squeezing tightly. “I’m scared that Sunday’s going to come and you’re going to leave and what if I can’t stand to be away from you like this? I’m happy for you and Lindsay, she’s great and you’re bloody amazing, but… I never cared about finding my soul mate and now here you are and I don’t know if I can just let you walk out of my everyday life and—“

It’s finally Michael’s turn to interrupt, not with words but with his lips, covering Gavin’s mouth with his own and kissing him slowly. He slides a hand into the Brit’s sandy hair, stroking it back from his forehead as he links their fingers together. Gavin seems to melt into him, all the nervous tension draining out of him until he slumps against Michael, forehead resting on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He admits, sliding his hand down to rub Gavin’s back. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when Lindsay and I go back to New Jersey. Maybe we won’t be able to handle long distance. Maybe we will. But I’m not going to worry about it until we know.” He smiles, tilting Gavin’s chin up and kissing him again, quick and chaste. “That’s kind of the exciting part, not knowing.”

“But what if—“

“What if nothing. We’ll figure it out.” Michael swallows, unsure he wants to go further but searching Gavin’s eyes, deciding he needs the reassurance. “Lindsay’s job means we could move anywhere in the US. I can find work and she makes enough to cover us until I get something steady. If you’re going to try for a visa to keep working in Austin, we _could_ move down here.”

“I don’t want to uproot your life…” Gavin mumbles, his lips finding Michael’s again, seeking the comfort there.

“You won’t. Trust me, neither of us likes New Jersey that much. It’s full of assholes. Plus our friends and family seem convinced that because she and I aren’t soul mates, we’re not going to work on. Fuckin’ assholes, all of them.” He kisses Gavin again, just because he can.

“Michael…” And it’s only lips on lips and gently rubbing hands, words not enough to express how they feel.

“Wow.” A voice comes from behind Gavin, making both jump and pull apart. “Gay.”

“G-Geoff!” Gavin exclaims, flushing crimson and looking away. He climbs off of Michael’s lap, both of them wondering just when he climbed onto the other man, shuffling over to stand next to the tattooed man.

“Do I need to get my shotgun out and remind your boyfriend where the boundaries are? Christ, I thought that could wait until my daughter was at least sixteen.” Geoff snickers as Gavin shoves him towards the door.

“He’s engaged, we’re not doing anything, _just shut up Geoffrey_!”

“’Bye, Gavin!” Michael calls with a cheerful wave as the two continue to bicker. Gavin glances over his shoulder, smiling and waving back.

He heads back up still smiling, letting himself into the room and immediately falling onto the couch beside Lindsay. He kisses her, stroking her cheek lightly. “Love you, Lindsay.”

“Love you too, Michael.” She smiles, resting her head against his chest.

“Hey… would you want to move here…?” He asks softly, brushing her hair back from her temple and placing his lips there.

“I think we could manage it. Wondered how long until you’d ask.”

“Bitch.” He mumbles affectionately. “So do you want to hit the bar?”

“I want to hit the bed.” Lindsay stands, her hands taking his and pulling him to his feet. “With you. Naked.”

Michael’s happy to oblige.


	13. Epilogue: Wedding Bells

Wheels touch down on tarmac with a squeak, a bounce, and an immediate revving of engines. There’s excited chatter in the cabin of the airplane, even as the pilot reminds everyone to remain seated while they taxi to the gate. Outside is bright May sunshine.

He gathers his things as soon as the seatbelt sign is off, pulling the laptop bag from under the seat in front of him and the duffle from the overhead bin, hurrying to be one of the first ones off the plane.

Strong arms envelope him as soon as he’s past the security checkpoint, familiar warmth that makes his throat close for a moment. There’s silence in the reunion as they hold each other tight before finally stepping back, looking each other over.

“You cut your hair.” He whispers, reaching up and running his fingertips through auburn curls, now sheered short in back.

“You didn’t.” The answer is a laugh, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Lindsay’s in the car.” Michael takes his duffle bag, lifting it easily with his right hand, left hand taking Gavin’s right and squeezing. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too…” He says softly, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on Michael’s cheek. “Skype isn’t the same.”

They load Gavin’s things and Lindsay comes around to give the Brit a hug, smiling widely as the three of them climb into the car and drive towards home.

Michael has taken him on a virtual tour of the apartment over skype, and Gavin feels immediately at home in the small space. He sets his things down in the guest room, joining the other two in the living room and settling on the couch with them.

Whatever conversation the pair had been having stops, their attention turning to Gavin. He swallows, just a little nervous, quirking one eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

Michael is the one who answers, setting a hand on his thigh and squeezing lightly. “After the wedding, we’re moving…” He begins, clearing his throat. “Well, I mean, not like right away, there’s the honeymoon and it’ll be a couple of weeks, maybe a month, but—“

“We’re going to Austin.” Lindsay interrupts, grinning widely. “You’re the first person we’ve told.”

Hugs are shared around, Gavin shifting slightly in Michael’s embrace when the celebration dies down. “My work visa only lasts for six months, you know…” He says softly, reminding them that it’s already been five months he’s been there. The excitement subdues markedly, neither catching the Brit’s wide grin.

When he pulls out his passport, however, they can almost feel what’s coming. Gavin holds it up, pointing proudly to the note in there.

“But my full time immigration just came through.”

It’s more embraces and cheering, the three of them bouncing around the living room of the apartment like excited kids on Christmas.

And really, they are. What better gift could they receive, than being close to each other?


End file.
